From The Cradle To The Grave
by ParijanTaiyou
Summary: House and Cuddy get back together, stronger than ever. Until she loses their baby, destroying their balance. Will they manage to get over it safe and sound? - Angst/Drama/Romance/Hurt/Comfort/Family mixed with flashbacks, smut and minor OOC.
1. Prologue

_Hi everyone ! So this is an other translation. The original story is titled ' Bloody Mary ', you may have read it if you're a French-speaking reader who got lost here. I felt courageous enough to try to translate my probably longest story ever ( it's not ended yet but with everything I planned to write, I'll break my own record ! ) because I went through a few sad moments, knowing that the story was read but not reviewed much. So, as soon as I'm done with the translation of the chapters I've already written, I'll continue to lucubrate in both French and English ( which is gonna be pretty useful because I usually write in Frenglish ).  
><em>

_Also, I am sorry for the likely mistakes in my plot. I'm not a doctor, I've never been pregnant and I'm an only child, so I don't know much about pregnancy and babies.  
><em>

_Flash-backs are written in italics and with present conjugation. Regular is written with past. Tell me if it's too complicated to read, I'll try to fix that !_

_Spoilers for season 7. The flash-backs take place after Bombshells ( except for the prologue. Well it's already getting complicated. Oops ), assuming a month went by between 7x17 ' Fall From Grace ' and 7x18 ' The Dig '. Nothing after ' Fall From Grace ' happened__ in my story.  
><em>

_I do not own House, MD._

_And many thanks to BJAllen815 for being a fantastic beta-reader ( until the last chapter, hopefully ) !  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>From The Cradle To The Grave<strong>

**Prologue**

* * *

><p>"Why isn't she crying?"<p>

Cuddy, lying on an operating table, legs apart, completely panicked. House by her side, holding her hand tight. And, in the same room, but a thousand miles away from them, their baby, surrounded by two doctors and a midwife.

"_Come on Dr. Cuddy, I can see her head already... Breathe in, breathe out... Come on, come on, push!"_

_Cuddy is pushing, with all the might a mother can give. She is exhausted, but she keeps going. She has never felt so strong. She can do it, oh yes she can! House mops her brow, wet from sweat and whispers encouragements in her ear. His hand never lets go of hers. _

_In spite of everything, she doesn't accomplish her goal. Not with success. She went through the three stages, but her daughter hasn't cried. The obstetrician doesn't allow House to cut the cord that connects the mother to her child; he does it by himself because they can't waste any precious seconds. _

_There is a problem. Cuddy realized it as soon as the doctor took her daughter away from her without laying her on her mother's stomach._

The couple was staring at the scene, with no reaction. They couldn't make one single move. The team was struggling. Doing CPR, and the baby couldn't breathe. They never stopped their cardiac massage, trying over and over again to make the baby take its very first breath.

Cuddy kept asking House why their daughter wasn't crying. He was unable to answer. She knew as well as he did. And they couldn't admit it.

Four minutes after the delivery, they heard one of the doctors say in a toneless voice:

"Mary Joy Cuddy, time of death...Seven fifteen p.m."

This was way too much for House. He squeezed Cuddy's hand so hard that he thought he might break her knuckles and left the operating room, trying his best to ignore her tears. They both had to be strong.

* * *

><p><em>TBC.. The first chapter will be published soon !<em>


	2. Chapter 1

_First, thank you so much for the reviews and the story alerts ! I really appreciate._

_Second, after a discussion with my BR, we decided to consider that Cuddy - and maybe House - are acting OOC. So, you've been warned ! I hope you'll enjoy the story anyway._

Spoilers for 7x14 and 7x17 in this chapter._  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

* * *

><p><em>House is expected to be late home tonight. His new case is particularly time-consuming and he is sure to make the right diagnosis tonight. It is just a matter of time. He is waiting for the results of a blood culture, run by his team. He could treat the patient right now but if he's wrong, he dies. And if he died, it would lead to a lawsuit, which he definitely wants to avoid. He doesn't follow his logic to treat in order to test anymore; it's the other way around. His behaviour had too many risks to jeopardize Cuddy.<em>

_He had told her he would be late, so she lay on the couch, a thick blanket wrapped around her frame. Usually, she goes to bed and pretends to sleep when he gets back, waiting for the mattress to collapse next to her and to feel a strong arm around her waist. Then, she lets some time go by and lazily turns over, as if she was asleep and curls up against him._

_It is past one o'clock when House opens the front door. He limps to the couch, where he falls more than sits, mentally and physically exhausted. He doesn't say a word, mechanically rubbing his leg, staring into the distance._

_Cuddy knows this situation. She knows it too well. She wishes she didn't, she hates seeing him like this, so scattered and lost! _

_This time, he didn't go around every bar in Princeton. He is used to drinking when he loses a patient. And when he solves the case, he celebrates it. With Cuddy. He drinks either way. Though, he is sober tonight. And in pain._

"_I'm gonna get you some water."_

_She is back in the living room a few seconds later, handing him a glass and two Ibuprofen pills. He thanks her and utters his first word of the night before swallowing it all and putting the glass back on the coffee table._

"_He died half an hour before I got the results." he finally says._

_Cuddy holds back a sigh and sits down, bringing her legs underneath herself and rests her head on his shoulder. She doesn't try to tell him that she feels sorry; she knows these words don't reach him. She hates him to be so upset about this kind of loss. He always says that the sad thing is that he didn't solve the mystery, but she knows there is something else. He feels affection, sympathy for his patients, even if he seems to despise them. To fail them is like a betrayal, because they put their lives in his hands. When Cuddy grabs a file from the ER, the clinic, it's kind of making a deal. A promise._

_In these moments, he doesn't talk about it. He just needs to feel she's near him. He told her once that she had made him a crappy doctor. It was right. And he needs her. He needs her to be with him, to reassure him, to not leave him alone. And he knows she'll always be here. He had to choose between Cuddy and Medicine, he chose Cuddy. And he doesn't regret. Before, he had Vicodin, alcohol, hookers. Now it's over, they have been together for over a year. _

_House refused to celebrate their first anniversary. According to the many crises they have gone through, they've been a couple for several months, less than twelve. And, this time according to him, they've been flirting together, dancing their sensual and frustrated tango, for two decades. _

_And she is content he didn't take her to the restaurant or the cinema for this non-anniversary. No, instead of all this, he made love to her. _

_Two months later, they are curled up on her couch. One of them is hurt, but the other one is his cornerstone. Whatever happens, they are together. As long as their balance is respected, they are stronger than everything. _

_House wraps an arm around Cuddy's body and brings her closer to him. She hugs him back, closes her eyes, and he puts his chin on the top of her head. They remain tenderly embraced for a while. He asks, _"_Why are you still up? You're gonna be tired tomorrow."_

"_I need to talk to you but it can wait."_

_He gently pulls back and looks her in the eye. She prefers focusing on the floor, as if she was nearly asleep. She is really tired but she can resist. Even if the atmosphere is now terribly uncomfortable. She shouldn't have said this. Now she's stuck, he won't let it drop until he knows what is going on._

"_It can't wait if you waited until one in the morning."_

_She wants to tell him that she never sleeps; she can't sleep alone in their bed when she knows he is at the hospital, brainstorming and nearly passing out because of exhaustion, that she needs him by her to feel safe. She wants to say so many things... And she is not sure of being able to. She slowly caresses his arm and raises her head, daring, staring at him. She eventually takes the plunge, probably a bit too brutally than she wanted._

"_I'm pregnant."_

_She pulls her head down, not feeling courageous enough to see his dazed face. Her eyes mist up with tears. He doesn't say a word and she is afraid. She is aware that she said it too fast; she couldn't help but be excited. Her dreams are coming true! She is pregnant. And now she expects House to wake her up by telling her he is living a nightmare. Maybe she should have thought about it before telling him._

_She had hoped he already knew. Her nausea, her periods that never showed up. He is brilliant at deductions, he could have guessed!_

"_I did the test at noon." she adds. "It..." How could she name that? 'When one of your cells met mine and boom? The day you impregnated me'? No, it will remain 'it'. _"_It happened two months ago and I- I think it was our anniversary."_

_He doesn't react. He had assumed a pregnancy, but he hadn't believed in it. Her IVFs has failed, she has miscarried once; she couldn't possibly have a baby. She is forty-four, he is almost a decade older, and she is pregnant with his child! It is time to face the reality. He sighs and, after a moment that seemed to last an eternity to both of them, he says, _"_Let me think about it. I don't want to take a decision that I will regret later."_

_He grabs his cane, gets up and leaves the living-room toward the hallway. Cuddy leaps and runs to him._

"_Don't go! Let's just forget this and I'll have an abortion. Stay with me!"_

"_Shh," he shushes her. "You're gonna wake Rachel."_

_She shuts her mouth, paying attention to every single noise in her house. It's all silent. The little girl is fast asleep. And she has no idea of what is going on here._

_House wipes away a tear rolling down Cuddy's cheek. She catches his wrist, and kisses his palm._

"_Don't even try the abortion." he whispers._

"_If you don't want this baby, it's fine. We have Rachel. And I probably won't be capable of keeping it... I'll miscarry...We're old House, too old for that."_

_His thumb strokes her smooth skin._

"_What about you? What do you want?"_

"_I don't know."_

_His arm falls back along his body. She shivers. They are inches from each other but he seems to be so far away that she thinks she will never reach him._

"_I'm gonna head back to my apartment, I'll think about the situation and I'll come back to you." he calmly explains._

"_I want you back within the next seven months."_

_They share a smile._

"_A few days. It won't be long. I promise."_

_House bends over to kiss her forehead. She raises her head, her mouth brushes his and freezes there, but nothing happens. There is no magic. She gives up and lets him go, alone. He disappears behind the door and she has never felt so lonely until now. She misses him already._

_Cuddy hopes he will make the best choice for them._

* * *

><p>"House!"<p>

Cuddy struggled to break free from the sheet. In her agitated slumber, she had wrapped it around her and she could barely breathe.

Breathless and still shaken by her memories, she rolled on her side. Refusing to see the empty cradle next to her bed, she turned on the right side, facing the glass walls of her hospital room. In the middle of the night, the corridors were almost empty, sometimes walked round by one nurse or two.

She ran a hospital. She was Dean of Medicine. She had it all. But she had nothing.

She lay on her back and stared at the white ceiling. She didn't want to see Mary's empty bed and she didn't want to be seen. She wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear.

She wasn't capable of giving birth. House had run away. There was nothing left for her.

Cuddy knew it was difficult for House. As much as it was for her. But he hadn't changed, he couldn't face his problems. And hers. He was gone and she had no idea of where he could be. In a bar, at his place, on the road, six feet under? Of course, she would help him, whereas she couldn't pull through this alone. She was fed up with being almost his mother, but that was how they worked. He needed her, she needed him back.

She was scared. What if he never came back? They had lost their baby and he had left her alone. Cuddy was terribly mad at him, but she couldn't really be so. It was easy to say she would have stayed. It is in front of the ordeal that we realize it is hard.

She had done so much for him. He had never given back. She had detoxed him, once. Right after his marriage with Dominika, she had showed up at his apartment and offered her help. He had missed her, and he loved her after all, so he had accepted, but only if she promised to stay with him and to not take him to Mayfield. He trusted her.

* * *

><p>"<em>My pills, Cuddy! My pills!" he shouts around his bedroom.<em>

_He is sweating, limping more than usual, his hands are shaking. He tries to calm down but even his will can't wake him up from this nightmare. When there's will, there is not always a way._

_Cuddy remains silent, her arms folded on her torso. She promised she would detox him, and she will. The collateral damages don't matter to her. The result is the only thing she cares about. She wants House drug-free._

"_Pain on a one to ten scale?" she asks with patience, as she has been doing for three days._

_This is the hardest part. He is bad-tempered, rough. He is losing it. Cuddy hasn't seen Rachel in this period of time and she has no idea how she can handle that._

"_Ten! A fucking ten! Just gimme the damn pills!"_

_He draws closer to her, tries to intimidate the Dean. He is taller, undeniably stronger, but she is not impressed. He is not the one who is acting, his pain is. He is not himself. His eyes are bloodshot, they try to yell at her his hate but they can't. He has never hated her. His feelings for her will never change, he can't fight this fact._

_He asks for Vicodin once again. Her answer is the same. She will give him nothing. In his cloudy mind, he wonders how the hell she can watch him suffering with no sympathy, or even guilt! He knows it is just a façade, that she feels bad inside, but this is too much for him. Too much pain, too much missing. He wants to see her as deep down as he is. He wants her in pain, just for her to see how it feels to be him._

_House grips her neck. Caught by surprise, Cuddy catches his wrists and sinks down to the wooden floor. He follows her move, lays her on the rug but doesn't release her throat. She is out of breath but she tries her best not to panic. She trusts him. He won't kill her. It is just a tight corner and it is going to be fine soon, she is sure about that._

_She is afraid anyway._

_Her nails are digging into his arm's skin, her lungs are about to explode, her heart threatens to blow her ribs. _

_She is almost unconscious as his hands leave her alone. He quickly steps back and collapses against the wall, sitting on the floor. She doesn't get up yet, takes her time to catch her breath. She coughs and comes closer to House, sits by his side._

"_You must hate me." he mumbles. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to..."_

"_I know."_

_She sympathetically smiles at him and slowly rubs his arm. He refuses to turn and see the marks on her neck. Before this lack of reaction, she hugs and rocks him. _

"_Why are you wasting your time with me Cuddy? I hurt you, I don't deserve you, I-"_

"_I'm okay. This is not your fault." she says before kissing his temple._

"_It is. I shouldn't have-"_

"_Shut up." she cuts him off again. "It will be over soon. You're gonna be okay. We are."_

_And he is right to believe in her._

She felt tears streaming down her face. Clumsily wiping them away with the back of her hand, Cuddy closed her eyes, hoping for some sleep.

* * *

><p><em>TBC..<br>Please leave a feedback ? Anonymous reviews are enabled and I really need to know what you think so I can progress. Thanks !  
><em>


	3. Chapter 2

_Here is chapter two... not very important in my opinion, but I thought I needed to introduce Arlene. I don't think she will be there for a long time though. ( Well except if you want to. Tell me ! I'll try to put her in the plot somewhere near chapter nine )  
><em>

_Once again, thank you for the reviews and the story alerts !_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

* * *

><p>A few hours later, Cuddy woke up with difficulty. She didn't dare open her eyes. She wanted to believe that House was asleep curled up behind her, his hand resting on her belly and his forehead against the back of her neck. She wanted to spend the whole Sunday morning in bed with him. She wanted a lot of things. A lot of things that weren't attainable any longer.<p>

She eventually confronted the reality. She was alone. Her bed was cold and empty.

The sun was making its way through the half-closed blinds. Its rays were brushing her skin but she could feel no heat. In fact, she was freezing. She brought the blankets up to her shoulders, staring at the window. She wanted to rush out and to leave no stone unturned to find House. Yes, she had lost his daughter, their daughter, but she was going to struggle to keep him with her. To let him go was unthinkable.

She was about to burst into tears as her mother opened the door, a huge white teddy bear tucked under an arm.

"Lisa?"

She thought about answering back that she hadn't asked her to come in but even if Arlene was the last person she wanted to see, she was also her mom.

"Hi Mom."

Arlene put the plush toy on the dresser, pulled out a chair and sat by the bed.

"How are you doing?"

"What do you think? Like a mother who has just lost her child."

She couldn't help it. Her mother sighed, disconcerted.

"I'm sorry. I know this is hard."

"You don't know."

A heavy silence fell over the room. Cuddy was staring at the wall in front of her. Her chin was shaking. She wanted her mother to leave and let her cry alone.

"Where is Greg?"

"In the cafeteria." she lied. "He was hungry."

"Oh that's curious. I was there ten minutes ago and I didn't see him."

"I don't know!" she clearly lost her temper. "He's a big boy now. He can go wherever he wants! Mom, look, if you're here to lecture me, to tell me that if I haven't flirted with some Goya, if I had rested more, Mary would have lived, just go. I don't need to know what you think about my life. I really don't."

Arlene took her hand. Cuddy didn't reject her, but she turned her head not to face her.

"I'm going to head back down. What do you want for breakfast?"

"Something light, I feel sick."

She nodded, tenderly kissed her daughter's head and left the room. Cuddy laid her eyes on the teddy bear her mother had brought and bit her lips. She hated this room. She hated these cute blue walls, these coloured pictures pasted on them. Every detail of it seemed to mock her. Every woman in this kind of room is supposed to be happy. Cuddy was at her worst. She couldn't recall feeling that badly before. She was longing to run away from here, but she was too exhausted to stand up and her stomach hurt. Hopelessly stuck, that's what she was.

A few crackers later, she was already feeling stronger. Arlene sat back on the chair and Cuddy was trapped again. Too bad, she was going to have to talk.

"How is Rachel?" she asked.

"She misses you."

"I've only been gone for two days."

"To her, it's already too long! She is glad to spend some time with her aunt but she wants you."

Cuddy had a sad smile.

"I miss her, too."

"You'd like to see her?"

"No!" she panicked. "I mean, I promised her she would have a sister, how am I gonna... explain that..." she stammered.

"We haven't told her anything yet. When she asks for you, we're telling her that her mom needs to rest."

Cuddy nodded.

"It's weird." she mumbled. "You always say I should spend less time at the hospital, more with Rachel, but nothing today, not a single reproach. You actually do feel sorry for me? Wow. Impressive."

"Lisa, please! I know I've made mistakes in the past, I know I'm not a perfect mother, but if you could just stop reminding me of that fact!"

Cuddy instantly regretted her words.

"I'm sorry... It's gotta be my hormones."

The two black pearl eyes of the bear were dramatically watching her. She extricated herself from the sheets, stepped on the floor. Arlene ran to her, clutched her shoulders.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Please let me."

She stood up. The pain in her belly was unbearable. She cried out and collapsed in her mother's protective arms.

"Help me, Mom." she begged, sobbing.

Arlene cautiously sat her down on the bed. The Dean fell to her side and curled up into a foetal position, holding her stomach.

"Sweetheart." the elder woman murmured, trying her best not to cry too. She couldn't stand this situation.

"I- I just wanted the bear."

She turned around, picked up the white bear on the dresser and handed it to her daughter, who buried her nose in its synthetic fur as soon as it was in her arms. It smelled like her home. A mix of House's musky odour and Rachel's sweet and sugary perfume.

She was so alone.

She burst into tears and held tighter the teddy. Arlene walked out of the room, not uttering one single word, not forgetting to close the blinds. Cuddy mentally thanked her. When she was younger, she used to cry her heart out alone, never showing her weaknesses to anyone. She hadn't changed.

Arlene faced her daughter's employees' curious looks. Rumours were going to spread like wildfire.

She decided she needed a drink.

* * *

><p><em>House passes before the doorway and looks into the bedroom. Cuddy is lying on the bed, with her back to him. Rachel is with her. Like every evening, he is careful to not disturb their moment. He doesn't want to impose his presence. Though, he stays here in the doorway, staring at them. He feels a bit... jealous. But he can't complain. Cuddy is all his every nights and every Sunday morning. <em>

_"House?" Cuddy whispers. He guesses the kid is asleep._

_"I'm leaving," he says, already turning around._

_"No, come here."_

_He hesitates for a moment, not really understanding what she has just said. Then, he smiles and quietly comes closer to her peace harbour. Rachel is on her stomach, curled up in her mother's arms. He lies behind Cuddy, wraps an arm around her waist and buries his head in her neck. He waits for a while and dares take her hand resting on Rachel's back. Their fingers intertwine. And they realize they're happy._

* * *

><p>Cuddy had fallen asleep. The sun was already going down. During her nap, she had dreamt that she was with her family, that everything was fine. It only made her loneliness even more painful.<p>

The bear now had the bitter taste of her tears. Emptying her mind, she watched the orange circle reddening until disappearing beyond the horizon.

And then, the darkness.

* * *

><p><em>TBC... Next chapter will take some time to be published, I have exams next week. Don't forget the reviews ! These are my fuel. :P<em>


	4. Chapter 3

_**SMUT WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER.**_

_Here we go. My first smut written in English * so proud *. I don't even know how I managed to translate all this. This vocabulary is obviously not the kind we learn at school, I guess I've learned by reading. A lot. * dirty mind *_

_So that's why I need reviews on this chapter. I know you guys are reading, statistics told me ! Speak your mind ! :P_

_Also, I need to know if everyone isn't getting too confused with the flash-back things. I've been told so several times, I just want to make sure...  
><em>

_Enjoy !_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Three<strong>

* * *

><p><em>The same file opened for the third time, Cuddy tries to focus on her paperwork in vain.<em>

_She hasn't seen House in four days, that is to say since she told him about her pregnancy. She knows he is at the hospital, she checked the register. Though, she forbids herself to go to the fourth floor. He needs to think, she is aware of that, but she misses him terribly. She keeps thinking that she hears him limping behind her, feels his hand catching her wrist. But he is never there. He is just a pipe dream._

_She closed the blinds in order to stop scrutinizing the clinic. It is turning into an obsession. _

_Yesterday, she cracked up and went to his place. The lights were on so she parked in front of the window of his living-room. He was playing the piano. She had expected to see him with a dozen hookers, alcohol flowing freely. She sadly realized she didn't trust him enough. She watched him for a moment, until he lifted his head and recognized her car. She could have sworn his eyes met hers without him being aware of this fact. And then he got back to his instrument. She gave up and drove home._

_If their relationship costs her the pregnancy she has always dreamt of, she will get over it. She is ready to do anything just to keep House with her. Maybe that's what they mean 'to be crazy in love'. House will drive her insane someday. The worst part is she kind of appreciates this idea._

_Someone opens the door. And Cuddy knows only one person who dares defy her authority and come in without knocking first. She raises her head from the file she wasn't even seeing, her blood pounding under her temples._

_House is there, right in front of her. He limps to her desk and puts a big teddy bear down on it – not giving a damn about her stuff falling to the floor. The bear, seated on the desk, holds out its arms with a stupid smile, so stupid that anyone would love to strangle it with the pink ribbon wrapped around its tiny neck. It is way too huge for a new born – a six-year-old might have a chance at holding it without getting lost in its white fur – but it is symbolic._

_"If it turns out we have a boy" House solemnly declares, "we'll put a blue ribbon on it instead. If we have a hermaphrodite, I don't know."_

_She smiles, moved to tears._

_"Which comatose patient did you steal it from? I'll give it back to their family."_

_"Oh, you're not gonna give it back! I bought it for you." He holds out his hand. "Come here."_

_She stands up, delighted, grabs his hand and goes round the table. He brings her to him and takes her in his arms._

_"Are you sure?" she asks, aware that he is making a huge sacrifice for her._

_"I want this baby with you, Cuddy. I'll try to be the best father I can be." he promises._

_She is glad to hear it. Actually, she radiates with happiness. She puts her forehead against his shoulder and laces her hands on his lower back. They quickly deviate on his hips. Cuddy raises her head, bites her lip while intensely looking at House's, places an innocent kiss on his mouth with a wet noise. She casts an aroused glance at him. And he can't resist her darkened eyes._

_Everything feels cold as her mouth leaves his. His grip on her waist grows firmer, and they passionately stare at each other, breathless. Finally, he almost throws himself at her, ardently kissing her. Their tongues caress each other, tenderly intertwining, led by passion. Their noses brush and bump against each other. Cuddy grabs the back of his neck, forcefully pulling him down to kiss her. She opens her mouth wide to greet his and snuggles against him. Her hands run along his arms, reaching everything they can, feeling his strength through his clothes, as if she was drafting a map of the body she already knew by heart. _

_"The door," she whispers._

_His cane has fallen to the floor, but he knows he can lean on Cuddy. He pins her against the door, relieved that she has closed the blinds. She moans, stuck between the hard surface and her lover's hands. She feels one of his searching inside the pocket of her skirt, finding the key and a way to brush her crotch through the thin material. Cuddy's hand joins his and kindly pats it. He obeys and inserts the key into the lock. Right at this moment, they hear a knock on the other side of the door._

_House and Cuddy share a panicked glance and freeze. Afraid that she may rebuff him, he tightens his embrace and presses a thumb to her lips._

_She doesn't want to get back to her job. Right now, she isn't a Dean of Medicine; she isn't the youngest woman to run a hospital. She is a woman, his woman. She has been all his since he offered her the white teddy. _

_They wait, forgetting to breathe. Cuddy's hands remain around his neck. She jumps when another knock sounds. Then she hears a voice she can't identify asking her PA if she's here. He fortunately doesn't remember and suggests the visitor to drop by later. _

_She insidiously captures his finger between her teeth and sucks it. House closes his eyes, trying his best to focus on what is going on outside the office. He can't ignore the tenderness of her tongue, the heat of her mouth. Her hands slowly let go of his neck. He opens his eyes and they meet her lustful blue ones. Eventually, the footsteps go away. House waits a few seconds before locking the door. They are alone now. His hand finds its way back on her hip. She releases his thumb with a pop and stares at him provocatively. Her lips are slightly parted and swollen, her cheeks are red. She looks wonderful._

_And their passion sets up again, as the countdown of a time bomb._

_He kisses her fiercely, letting the fire burn between them. He has to stop to catch his breath, doing so without breaking contact with her lips. She shivers and reaches for another powerful kiss. She wants him too much, it's almost painful. Yes, she wants him so bad right now! And his acts wordlessly tell her the feeling is mutual. She can't fight her desire for him and holds him tighter. She arches, her curves meet his. He pushes her back against the door, pulls her skirt up to her pelvis, grabs her calves and wraps them around his waist. She automatically leans on the wooden surface. A hand on the small of her back, the other one between her shoulder blades, he lifts her. She stays perfectly calm; teasing would jeopardize their delicate balance. He takes her to the couch, where he sits, Cuddy straddling him. As soon as they're seated, she attacks him again. She bites his tongue, his lips, holds him between her teeth. House's hand finds its way under her shirt, palming her boiling hot skin. She growls, throws her head back and offers him her throat. He devours her, bites her skin, leaving his mark. The previous hickey has started blurring away, and House wants her to always know she's his. Though he is kind enough to mark her low enough that she can still wear décolleté tops. He laps at every part of her skin he can reach and strokes a breast through the violet garment. He tries to unbutton her shirt, Cuddy catches his writs._

_"I am not getting naked in my office," though she is sitting on his lap, her skirt pulled up to her hips; she looks beautiful, indecent, incredibly hot._

_"I want your skin," he breathes. "I want you, I want all of you, all mine..."_

_She lets out a satisfied sigh and lets him remove her blouse. Their mouths never pull apart. They have no time to breathe; they give each other all that they have, clearly crazy in love._

_House slips her bra down, releasing one of her breasts. He palms it with intense passion and toys with her nipple. Cuddy opens his shirt. He lets go of her waist to help her take off the garment, then grabs her to pin her against his chest. Their sweaty skin slides against each other. Cuddy caresses his torso, feels his heart beating like crazy underneath her palm. She squirms, the bulge in House's pants brushes her lady parts. A strong desire immediately builds low in their bellies._

_House slips a hand under her skirt, pushing her panties aside and strokes her burning labia. He teases her clit and her soaked entrance. She arches as he plunges one finger inside her and caresses her inner walls._

_"Now," she begs._

_She undoes his zipper, releasing his cock from its yoke. Her lover grabs her hips and pushes into her._

_He missed her so much. He can't live without her, this is undeniable. How could he have spent four days without her, wondering about their future? His future is with her! _

_He slowly rocks his pelvis, kissing her over and over again, her breasts pressed tightly against his strong chest. He realizes Cuddy is crying. A salty taste mixes with their sealed lips._

_They're going to have a baby. This sentence has been echoing in her mind since he hugged her. She has never been so happy. _

_She feels his perfect moves stop as he looks up at her, worried._

_"'You okay? Did I hurt you?"_

_"We're having a baby, House." she whispers. _

_She smiles and he smiles back._

_"Yeah."_

_He tenderly draws away a lock of her hair that has fallen against her forehead and slips it behind her ear. She looks wonderful. _

_"I love you," House murmurs, as if it were a secret. "I love you. I love you!"_

_She bends over and places a kiss on his lips, cupping his jaw in her palm. Their frenzy rushes back, and so do House's moves. Their mouths break apart but they stay close, nose against nose. And finally, he finds the spot that can take her to heaven. He doesn't try to make her come before him. This time, he wants them to explode together. He expertly hits the swollen zone, feeling Cuddy's muscles squeezing around his shaft. The more he thrusts, the closer he gets. And he knows she is close too. It's just a matter of seconds. He captures her lips for a long lingering kiss, and a violent orgasm waves through them. Cuddy clenches her fists and hits the wall, finding her way to let the tension out without a cry. House wildly pins her against him and digs his teeth into the flesh of her shoulder. She quivers and lets him, her fingers gently caressing his hair as he is coming deep inside of her. They remain in this position for a while, not saying a word, peacefully catching their breaths._

_"It's five." he says. "You're supposed to leave in an hour. We could just stay here, like this, until six."_

_She hesitates. She has tons of work to do, but she missed him so much... _

_"Okay," she agrees. "But only if you have dinner at my place tonight."_

_He pretends to think about her invitation, but she knows as well as he does that he will accept._

_"Deal," he declares in a very serious tone. _

_Cuddy places a soft kiss on his lips, replaces her bra, buttons her shirt and he helps her, even smoothing out the material for it to be pretty. He asks her to get up, which she does, he puts his zipper back, lies on the couch and holds out his hand. She takes off her stilettos, cautiously lays on him, careful not to put too much pressure on his bad leg, curls up in his arms and buries her head in his neck._

_"Cuddy?" House gently shakes her shoulders. She lifts her head and lets out a long yawn._

_"You fell asleep."_

She had fallen asleep. And she would have preferred to never wake up again.

Her hospital gown was spread open and her hand buried in between her legs. What a great idea her mom had to close the blinds! She would have offered a nice spectacle...

"House." she called. His whispered name echoed in the silence, contrasting with the beats of her heart pounding in her eardrums. She was feeling hot, her skin sticky and sweaty. If she had been connected to a monitor, this one would have exploded. Fortunately, she was only here in observation. In two days, she was supposed to leave. To leave, okay, but to go where? The hospital was driving her insane, and her home was freaking her out. She only had Rachel as a shelter, now that House was gone. Her future was terrifying. She wouldn't pull through this alone. For the first time ever, she didn't know if she was able to rise.

A movement in her peripheral vision made her jump. In a reflex, she brought her hand to her face. The wrong hand.

She was not alone here.

* * *

><p><em>TBC... So I guess you all already figured out who's there ;)<em>


	5. Chapter 4

_Sorry for the delay ! I've been busy ( Actually I still am busy but.. anyway ). I'll try to update the story more often._

_So I didn't get a lot of feedback for the previous chapter ? Well. Thanks to those who keep reading, and I hope you'll still enjoy the ride !_

_Also, this chapter is kind of bungled. I wasn't really inspired back then. _

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four<strong>

* * *

><p>A movement in her peripheral vision made her jump. In a reflex, she brought her hand to her face. The wrong hand.<p>

She was not alone here.

House was sitting by her side, watching her without uttering a word. His eyebrows were furrowed in a frown, but he seemed focused. He actually always looked focused and worried. He stood up as he saw she had spread blood over her chin and jaw.

"You freaked me out." she said.

"I know."

He grabbed a paper tissue from his pocket, clutched her wrist and cleaned her palm. The thin paper quickly reddened, he took another one to wipe her face. He slowly, meticulously scrubbed her skin. She closed her eyes, enjoying the caress on her cheek. House limped to the bathroom, threw the tissues away and came back to Cuddy. He saw her bending over, trying to pick up the stuffed bear that had fallen to the floor. He gripped one of its smooth paws and handed the teddy to Cuddy. She shyly pursed her lips as thanks and abruptly pulled House to her, encircling his neck and holding him against her. She scrubbed her nose against his cheek, bit his earlobe and kissed his face. He dropped his cane and embraced her tight. They shared a powerful, strong kiss. She released his neck to press her hand on her stomach, grunting against his lips. He laid her down and tried to pull away but she caught him before he had time to.

"Touch me. It's been three months, I can't wait any longer, I need you..."

"Eww, no, you're all bloody!" he tried to joke.

Cuddy tensed up and let go of his arm.

"So I disgust you." she said as he sat on the edge of the bed, putting a hand on the opposite edge of the mattress, his arm above her legs.

"I didn't mean that. Look, I really want you too, but let's wait. It could hurt you."

She nodded, not really convinced though.

_Cuddy is standing naked in front of the mirror of their bedroom. She pensively stares at her reflection, feels her behind and thighs. They seem huge to her. She only likes her belly, swollen enough to make people guess that she might be pregnant._

_House enters the room, closes the door behind him. She sees him eyeing her before stepping toward the closet._

"_Do you still like my body?" she suddenly worries._

_He turns around, and stares at her, surprised. Of course he still does! She is a bit plumper than before, her hips are larger, so are her breasts. Her hair looks thicker and denser. She has never been so gorgeous._

_He stands right behind her, his bare chest pressed against her back, and wraps his arms around her not-so-thin frame. She is small enough for him to rest his chin on the top of her head._

"_Yes I like your body," he simply says. _

_She complains, _"_I'm always hungry. And now my ass is just... dramatically big."_

"_But what an ass!"_

_She lets out a small cry as he spanks her and comments, _"_It bounces more now. It's such a nice view."_

_He does it again and she finally smiles._

"_Your ass is perfect. Trust me. I know what I'm talking about."_

_House places a kiss on her neck. She has just taken her shower and she smells delicious. He closes his eyes, lays his head on her shoulder and enjoys her fruity perfume. He eventually lifts his eyelids and looks into the mirror. He takes off the towel surrounding his waist and wraps the both of them in it. Now that there is no barrier between their bodies, his arousal immediately throbs against her skin._

"_Can you feel me?" he whispers to her ear. _

_She turns her head and her lips brush his. Her hand makes its way between their bodies._

"_Yes I can."_

_She gently caresses him, feeling his warm moans crashing on her mouth. Her free hand joins House's on her stomach._

"_You're beautiful Lisa Cuddy." he murmurs before delicately kissing her._

House bent over, on his way to lay a kiss on her belly as he used to do before. He thought it would make her comfortable but she stopped him, her hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her. Her eyes were misting up with tears. He gave up and closed her hospital gown, resting his hand on her chest. She reached for it and their fingers laced.

"Do you have some Ibuprofen?" she asked.

House searched his blazer pocket and handed her an orange bottle. She opened it and let drop two pills in her palm.

"Only one."

"I'm in pain." she answered back before swallowing them.

She was turning into him.

He took two pills as well, shouted 'Cheers!' and threw them into his mouth. She chuckled, cast him a tender glance and pulled at his jacket sleeve.

"Come here."

He happily complied, lying on his side and curled up against her. He let her fingertips caress his grey hair, his arm rested on her breast and his hand gripped her arm. He buried his head in her neck and she let out a contented sigh, her carotid peacefully pounding against his temple.

"How are you?" he asked, to start a conversation. He immediately wanted to snap himself.

"What about you?"

He didn't answer. He felt bad. So did she, he knew that. They obviously didn't need to talk tonight. Maybe they just needed silence. The sky was dark, everything was so calm.

The situation was pretty awkward. He had the feeling that she was the one who comforted him, whereas it was supposed to be the other way around. He was convinced that she needed him more than he needed her. She suffered more than he did. He hated to think that but perhaps he had never wanted a baby. He had told Cuddy not to have an abortion. To realize her dream. This dream wasn't his. He had wanted to share it because he loved Cuddy, but had he ever loved Mary?

Of course he hadn't wanted to lose her! For seven months, he had lived with uncertainty and fear, expecting every night to wake up and find the sheets soaked with blood, expecting every day to be paged because Cuddy had collapsed.

Her pregnancy, miraculously, went well. Until the delivery.

"I can't stay here, House. I have to get out."

"I'll take care of it tomorrow," he promised. He just wanted to spend the night with her, to be with her.

"Could we go to your place instead of mine? Just for a few days, I don't think I'm ready to go home yet. There – there's Mary's stuff, everything we've prepared for her, and..."

House nodded. She burst into tears.

"I'm so sorry I– I lost her..."

He propped himself on his elbow, cupped her cheeks in his hands.

"You didn't lose her. The umbilical cord was wrapped around her neck. This is not your fault. Do you hear me?"

"But she – she died in my body." she sobbed.

'_She was never born'_ he was about to respond. That probably wasn't the best reply.

"Stop blaming yourself," he breathed before kissing her forehead. He lay down on his side again. She silently cried for a while, House rubbing her shoulder with his thumb.

"Why are you back?" she inquired. He sincerely answered.

"I love you." Then, thinking it sounded weird for him, he added. "I don't want anyone to believe that I don't you treat well, that I always leave you alone, that I–"

"So that's it." she cut him off.

"That's it, what?"

"You don't give a fuck about me. But you know what? Don't pretend to care about us. Your reputation is already screwed!"

He rose to face her. She was angrily, unrestrainedly crying.

"Get out."

"Cuddy, you–"

"Get out!" she yelled.

* * *

><p><em>TBC...<em>


	6. Chapter 5

_230 visitors on the previous chapter, 2 of you wrote a review. Disappointing. I always leave a feedback when I read something because I know authors need to progress, and so do I ! Without your opinions - and some advices, why not ? - all I do is linger. So I really need to know what you guys think !_

_Anyway, this chapter contains some Hilson, and I have to admit that I suck at writing friendships between two men. This will be the same for the 6th chapter and then we'll get back to Huddy, I promise !_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five<strong>

* * *

><p><em>She is in a bad mood tonight.<em>

_Blame her hormones. Again. _

_House dreads going home. He knows she had a terrible day. She had a budget meeting that lasted way too long, a water leak on the third floor and extra-clinic hours because several of her doctors had the flu. And he knows that she is going to unfairly take it all out on him, even though, this morning, he took the garbage out. He had also used his own toothbrush, put it away properly, not leaving it on the sink and even remembered to put the toilet seat down._

_She is playing with Rachel when he arrives. She says hi and barely looks at him. He decides to make an effort and heads to the kitchen to cook dinner. He makes a modified pasta carbonara, trying to be respectful of her vegetarianism he makes it without bacon. One of her favourite dishes._

_They share only a few words during dinner. When it's time for them to go to sleep, she grabs her pillow and a blanket, and settles down in the living room. He admits that he is a pain in the ass in bed; he takes all the sheets for himself, he snores during the scarce times he's fast asleep. But he feels a bit offended._

_"You take the bed, I'll take the couch. You're pregnant." he says._

_"Stop being kind to me just because I'm pregnant!" she suddenly bursts._

_They freeze and stare at each other. That was kind of unexpected. Even Cuddy didn't see it coming._

_"So you screw with me just to see how I react? Nice."_

_"No, not at all. Sorry. Sorry. Excuse me. It's my hormones."_

_She takes her stuff to the couch and arranges her makeshift bed. House follows her pace and waits in the doorway for her to be snuggled in. _

_"Have an awful night and lots of nightmares. Oh, and, Cuddy? I don't love you."_

_She smiles._

_"I don't love you either. I hope I won't see your face tomorrow again."_

_"Yeah, me too."_

_He winks at her, turns the lights off, plunging Cuddy into darkness, and limps toward the bedroom, already knowing he won't be able to sleep there._

_The morning after, he's asleep on the divan… on the other side of the room, but in the same room as Cuddy. When he wakes up, she is lying beside him in the tiny space left on the divan. He wraps an arm around her frame so she won't fall. He realizes she is wholly awake and she cuddles up against him._

* * *

><p>"And you go away that easily?"<p>

House had run into Arlene on his way out. She had heard everything and she wasn't going to let it drop.

"This doesn't concern you Mom!" Cuddy yelled.

"I agree." he conceded. "This doesn't concern you, Mom!"

"Whether you make efforts or not, you don't deserve my daughter." Arlene spat in a cold tone. "You will never do."

"I know."

He looked down at the floor tiles and nervously played with the knob of his cane. Arlene stepped aside and let her prey run away.

"I still can't figure out how you could forni–"

"I love him!" Cuddy cut her off between two sobs. "Like it or not, I do."

"Then why do you reject him?" asked the elder woman, sitting on the edge of the mattress.

"We were going to break up anyway. Couples that lose a child never last. If we have to end up suffering, I'd rather suffer now."

And she burst into tears. Arlene wordlessly wrapped her arms around her, rocked her and slowly ran her hand along her spine.

'Is this the way you trust us?' House wanted to shout, hidden behind the blinds. But he was supposed to already be gone, not overhearing their conversation.

He had to get her out of here.

House walked toward the nurse's station.

"I need a discharge file for the room 223." he said, throwing his cane on the counter in a dramatic gesture.

He took a look at his watch. Wilson was going to show up in an hour. Since Cuddy had left him her hospital, he was starting his days earlier.

House buckled down to fill in the form the nurse had just handed him.

* * *

><p>The oncologist – in fact, the interim Dean – was supposed to arrive within the next ten minutes. House had broken into his office with the spare key Cuddy had given him<strong>. <strong>Back then, her pregnancy was exhausting her and she had often taken a short nap after locking the door. If she was in trouble, she wanted House to be the only one to come in. She was scared of the least dizzy spell, so scared that she wasn't leaving home without some meds. Her pregnancy was a secret to the whole hospital. Wilson and House were the only ones to know about it. She was too afraid to lose her job if the news spread. She had used tens of stratagems to hide her belly, her sickness, everything that could reveal that she was pregnant. It had gotten complicated.

He sadly thought she wouldn't have to worry about this anymore.

Sitting on the couch, he looked around the office. Wilson hadn't touched anything, Cuddy's lab coat was still hanging on the coatrack. He had refused to turn the Dean's environment upside-down, because his job was temporary. As soon as she gets better, he would go back to the Head of Oncology. And he was content with that! He had never been so busy. He had difficulty figuring out how Cuddy could handle and manage all this stress and pressure. Maybe because in over a decade, she had grown used to it... It was impressive anyway.

House's eyes lay on the frame put on the furniture behind Cuddy's leather armchair. House had wanted her to hide it somehow. This was the only photo she had in which he was smiling. It had been taken in the amusement park where they had taken Rachel. The toddler was holding her almost-father's hand, while he was standing next to Cuddy, whose round belly was lightly drawn underneath her blue gown. And on the left, a huge purple rabbit mascot who had insisted on taking the photo and selling it to them on their way out for fifteen dollars.

_"House, look! You're smiling!" Cuddy exclaims._

_"God, no! They got me by surprise." he shouts back. Rachel chuckles. "There will be no next time. Seriously, you're not gonna take it?"_

_"Yes I am! And another for my office, and for you place, for–"_

_"Stop, stop, stop." he panicked. "Okay. Take as many as you want but I'm not paying for them!"_

She had bought a dozen.

He preferred to focus on the couch, _their_ couch. At the end of each day he ended up there, sitting with Cuddy. They used to talk a bit before going home.

_"Happy birthday." he says, handing her a bottle of sedatives wrapped in a red ribbon. She chuckles and cups his cheek in her hand._

_"Oh you're a sweet, sweet man!" She places a kiss on his lips, letting her fingers run along his jaw._

When he came in her office and saw people she was meeting sitting on this sofa, he was grinning inside. It was their couch; no one else had the right to lay their ass there!

_"Cuddy... You fell asleep."_

Wilson pushed the door, not even surprised to see House.

"If it's for a brain biopsy, you already know my answer."

He knew he wanted to discuss Cuddy, but he had to let him bring the topic up. He hung his wolen coat on the coatrack, let his attaché case drop next to the desk and sat in the armchair. As usual, he sorted the files accumulated on the table, until he found one on behalf of Cuddy.

He quickly flipped through it and asked.

"Why is this discharge file on my desk?"

"Dinner tonight?" House hastened to skip the subject.

"Shouldn't you be with Cuddy?"

"She doesn't want me. So, dinner tonight?"

Wilson looked up at him with his what-the-hell face that House liked so much. The diagnostician rose and stood in front of the table. The oncologist slowly recovered from his surprise.

"What do you mean, she doesn't want you?"

"It's nothing, just her hormones. Sign right here." he said, pointing a finger at the white square on the paper. "Dinner tonight?"

"We don't hang-out; I have to look after Sarah."

"Porn at your place, then."

"Maybe not a porn..." Wilson sighed.

"'Kay." he conceded. "Now sign."

"I'll sign this if you tell me what you have in mind with this discharge thing."

"Tonight if you want."

He didn't expect an answer and limped straight to the exit.

* * *

><p><em>TBC..<em>


	7. Chapter 6

_My apologies for this short chapter, I wasn't really inspired. It will get longer though.  
>( And we're still stuck with this terrible Hilson scene that I struggled to write<em>. )

_Thanks for the reviews. Enjoy !_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Six<strong>

* * *

><p>Cuddy swallowed her lunch and pretended to take a nap so Arlene would stop speaking. She needed silence to think properly.<p>

She kept seeing House's hurt face again when she had told him to leave and it was breaking her heart into thousands of pieces. She had reacted impulsively, snapping at the first thing to destroy them, and being unfair with him. She had wanted to end all this because they would break-up anyway – at least that was what she thought.

Maybe they were stronger.

After all they had been through they'd certainly be able to pull through this. She missed him already. She didn't want to be alone. To go back home and live in House's and Mary's absence was an option she refused to consider. Her house was filled with memories. Maybe she would have to move somewhere else... To move on.

Would she even able to raise Rachel and take care of her?

If she wasn't able to give birth, maybe it was the evidence that she wasn't meant to be a mother.

House had to come back. She didn't trust herself anymore. He was the only one able to make her feel special.

"Chinese." House announced as Wilson opened the door of his apartment. "It got cold though."

"I'll nuke it."

He grabbed the paper bag and went to the kitchen. House, by instinct, limped to the living-room. He almost stepped on Sarah, froze and stared down at the cat sniffing his jeans and scrubbing against his leg. He checked that he was out-of-sight and lifted Sarah after leaving his cane against the nearest wall. She curled up in his neck, purring. House couldn't resist this tiny and warm and soft body and silently cried, his fingers wandering through the white fur.

Wilson was about to enter the room when he saw House's back, his friend holding Sarah. He hid behind the door and stared at the scene.

House wished Mary had lived. He wished Cuddy had never been pregnant. He wanted everything to be like before, to go back to the time when they were happy.

"Don't tell Wilson I cried. This is our little secret."

He let go of Sarah and leaned over to delicately put her down on the floor. The cat quietly went away toward the bedroom. House settled down on the couch, resting his feet on the coffee table. Old habits die hard.

The oncologist waited for a few seconds before bringing the plates. He discretely stared at his friend. No detail could tell he had cried a minute earlier.

"What do you wanna watch?" he asked, pointing at the telly with the remote control.

_"No way. I'm not watching this bullshit." Cuddy protests._

_House owns the TV tonight, and he feels like watching some reality show. She has trouble believing he enjoys this kind of program. He is so brilliant and smart, and this is so... pedestrian._

_"Go to bed if you prefer. I am not forcing you to stay with me."_

_He pouts, disappointed that television is another thing they don't have in common. She grumbles a bit. She is lying next to him on the sofa, her head resting on his shoulder, in pajamas three times too large for her. She doesn't feel like moving. She gives up as the opening titles appear on the screen._

_A few minutes later, he feels her head getting heavier. Cuddy has just fallen asleep, her arm surrounding House's abdomen. He is nicely stuck here for a moment. He turns the volume down to not disturb her light slumber._

_In fact, he is not watching the screen, clearly captivated by Cuddy. She is adorable. Her lips are slightly parted, her eyes are closed and the relaxed curves of her face express all her serenity. He slowly caresses her cheek with the tip of his thumb._

"Try National Geographic Channel."

They found a documentary about the Akashi-Kaikyō Bridge. Not really fascinating, but it would do. A few moments went by and Wilson ventured between mouthfuls of noodles, "How are you?"

"Fine."

"I mean, how are you about... uhm, the dea–"

"She is not technically dead. She was not born, which is totally different!" he lost his temper in a gesture that threw some sauce on the floor.

Wilson judged it would be wiser to avoid the topic... for now. House started on his curried chicken, staring into the distance.

"I want her out tomorrow." he suddenly said.

"Her?"

"Cuddy. Not the Patriarchate of Istanbul's cousin!"

"Oh. I thought you were talking about..."

House didn't help him finish his sentence. Wilson insisted, wanting to worm the information out of him.

"House, can you say her name?"

He tried to. He really did. No word came out. He had a strong will, though. He wanted to prove that he wasn't devastated by the event.

"She wanted to call her Joy." was all he could utter. Wilson remained silent. "She can't stay at the hospital; it's going to kill her. You gonna sign the authorization or not?"

"Will you take care of her?"

"Of course I will."

Wilson nodded. He could trust him.

"I spent the whole day at my place yesterday." House kept on speaking. "Most of my stuff is at hers, I almost live there. I don't want to be alone anymore, I won't let her go. Even if she wants to get rid of me. I need her in my life."

And he gave all his attention back to the Japanese bridge.

* * *

><p>She had seen the paper signed by Wilson and House testifying that she was now in a good shape, physically. Mentally, she was a mess.<p>

Cuddy was sure he would come. He wouldn't have dared discharge her knowing she didn't want to head back home. Or maybe he just wanted to get rid of her? She had doubts. Though, she was deeply convinced she could trust him once again.

She was waiting, scrutinizing the corridor as soon as her mother turned her back to her. He wasn't arriving. The more minutes that went by, the more anxious she felt.

Eventually, in the middle of the afternoon, Arlene decided to leave. She helped her daughter get dressed and packed her stuff in the large bag she had brought. Sick at heart, Cuddy, way too weak and tired to walk to the parking lot, sat in the wheeling chair. She felt heavy-hearted, torn between two distinct feelings. She missed Rachel but she couldn't go home now. Not without House. Not without Mary. She wasn't ready yet.

He had left her, betrayed her. There was no hope. How could she have been so naïve to believe he would come back?

Though, right at the moment she had lost all her hopes and expectations, he appeared here in the doorway.

* * *

><p><em>TBC...<em>

_Keep the reviews going, I need them !_


	8. Chapter 7

_Sorry this took so long. I'm having some trouble connecting to the Internet._

_Also, thanks a lot for reviewing more than usual last time. :)  
><em>

_Hope you'll enjoy it ! This chapter contains a reference to the first one.  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seven<strong>

* * *

><p>Her heart skipped a beat. They stared at each other for a while, Arlene observing the scene. He regretted he had left her alone once again. Her eyes were rimmed red, and her shoulders were loose. She deserved much better. He hated knowing he had contributed to her destruction. Finally, he held out his hand and asked in a shy voice, "We go home now?"<p>

He was back for her. And he would fix them.

She grinned and cheerfully answered:

"We go home!"

She took the bag from her mother's hands to put it on her lap. Arlene was sincerely relieved to see her smile again, even if she couldn't stand the idea of letting her go with this insecure addict. She loathed him but she had to admit that he was good to her daughter during their crisis.

She pushed the wheeling chair toward the doctor, promising him with an icy glance that she would make him eat his guts if anything went wrong. 'Roger' he seemed to tell her.

He took Cuddy away from the room, away from her nightmare. They entered the elevator and she let out a heavy sigh of relief. Finally it was over! Finally she was safe with him!

"I kidnapped my princess on my white horse." he said, making her chuckle. His hand left the handle and comfortingly lay on her shoulder. Having trouble limping with his cane hanging on his arm, he handed it to Cuddy.

"Could you hold this for a minute?"

"I'd be delighted, Sir."

He had never let her touch his cane. It was the symbol of his pain, his handicap. He had simply refused to let her be a part of that; this was his problem, not hers - but sometimes he let her massage his thigh when the pain was unbearable. He could share it with her now that they were on an equal footing.

The metal doors slid open. They entered the hall, quietly heading toward the outdoors. They passed a woman who had delivered a few hours before Cuddy. The father was holding his child; the woman was sitting in a chair too, guided by a nurse. They were happy.

House and Cuddy had nothing left.

He didn't give her any time to focus on this family and quickened his pace. Some fresh air would be good to them. As they went outside, Cuddy opened her coat. The weather was quite warm for February, the piles of snow on the pavement slowly melting and turning into dirty mud. They reached his car which was parked a few feet away. He gave her a hand to stand up and looked her in the eyes before they threw themselves into each other's arms. The bag and his cane fell on the asphalt. They didn't give a damn about anything right now; they were in each other's arms. He held her tight, she huddled against him, buried her nose in the crook of his neck. After all this time she had spent alone waiting for him, she could finally, freely hug him. They remained embraced for a while, until she couldn't take it anymore and let out a growl of pain. He had her step back, opened the door and caught her hand to lead her to the passenger seat, put the bag into the boot and sat behind the wheel. He let out a satisfied sigh and looked at Cuddy. She was silently observing him. He leaned over to her, cupped her cheek in his hand, lay a delicate kiss on her mouth and their fingers intertwined. They stared at their hands with a timid pride. They seemed fragile together, but they were much stronger. They knew it deep down.

Cuddy sat back in her seat, wrapped the tails of her coat around her frame and tenderly smiled at him.

"Thank you for coming back."

She was aware that she was extremely lucky to have him by her side. He could have gone away as she had told him to.

"Always."

He was sincere.

Ten minutes later, she was dozing off, her head turned to him and her hand lazily resting on his thigh.

"You didn't sleep well?" he asked after the red light had turned to green.

"Wonder whose fault it is." she spat, half-asleep.

He froze. The next days were going to be more difficult than he had thought. It was normal to be in a bad mood, she even had the right to be mad at him for leaving for a whole day!

"Sorry." she whispered, remorseful. He didn't deserve her to be rough with him. Though, she couldn't help it. "I'm just overly tired."

"Could be pathological."

The diagnostician was winning over the caring boyfriend.

"Stop it. There's no mystery. Just try to give birth and you'll see!"

He stopped the car on the side of the road.

"Go on."

"Cuddy–"

"Just go on! I'd like to sleep, we'll talk later."

She turned and rested her forehead against the window, sulking. He went on, not uttering a word until he parked in front of his building. He was kind of upset, helpless, but not mad at her. Certainly not. She stepped out of the car by herself, even if she could barely stand up. He tucked her stuff under an arm, opened the door and she followed him with a smile, her rancour already forgotten.

The whole apartment was clean. There was not an ounce of dust on the furniture, as if they had always lived here. Actually, they hadn't been there in weeks.

"Is the bed made?" she asked.

"We can say that."

That meant 'there's a sheet on the edge of the bed'. He took her coat off, threw it onto the couch, led her to the bedroom holding her hand and laid her on the mattress. He relieved her of her shoes and covered her with the white sheet.

She was so pale that he had the feeling he was tucking her in a shroud.

"You want some extra blankets?" he tried to dismiss this sudden vertigo.

"No thanks, I'll be fine."

"I'll be in the living room if you need me."

She nodded. He bent over, kissed her temple and caressed her arm. It was weird. He was not used to acting like that. And she didn't want him to be different just because...

"House?" she called out before he reached the door. "Could you leave me some Ibuprofen?"

He hesitated. Finally, he went back to her and took a pill from the orange bottle.

"Just one."

She seemed disappointed. She swallowed it and lay back on the pillows.

House left the room and closed the door with a heavy heart.

He hadn't modified the room. The rug which he had laid her on, his hands around her neck, was still there.

She couldn't sleep in there. Not alone. They had spent some days here after his detox and she hadn't had any time to focus on the details. Now that she was going to struggle for sleep, it would be totally different.

She was trying to forget, to find reasons for his act, telling herself it wasn't his fault, but she could have passed out. If he hadn't released her, she would have been dead right now. Dead for him. Dead for helping him out. And she couldn't remove the scene from her mind. She was seeing him again, seeing his emotionless eyes as he was taking her breath away. Even if she had trusted him, even if she had known he wouldn't have killed her, she had been scared to death. She had really felt that she hadn't meant anything to him at this moment. Not even his boss or simply his woman. Shining white spots had invaded her sight and, eventually, oxygen had filled her lungs. She had comforted him but he hadn't done anything for her. And the blue marks had remained on her skin for over ten days.

She was going to have to stop thinking about all this; otherwise she would get angry for no reason. She couldn't be rude with the only person who was able to keep her alive!

Cuddy rolled on her right side not to see the rug again. Thinking that House must have slept there last night, she buried her nose in the pillows. It was marked with his odour. She wrapped the thin sheet around her, absorbing his perfume. There was just a wall between them right now but she needed to feel as close to him as possible. She was completely dependent on him. She pricked up her ears and paid attention to the sounds shattering the silence. Piano. He was playing the piano. Just a few notes so it wouldn't disturb her. His music was unstructured, improvised, but Cuddy had never heard anything so relaxing. She held the pillow against her chest, curling up into a fetal position and slipping into slumber.

* * *

><p><em>TBC... Keep the reviews going ! *hug*<em>


	9. Chapter 8

_**SMUT WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER.**_

_So this chapter is kind of special to me. A dear friend inspired me a lot - Map Of The Problematique is Muse's best song ever. EVER.- What would I do without you, dear?  
>Also, BJAllen815 did an absolutely awesome beta-reading on this. Thank you again.<em>

_And many thanks to everyone else for the oh so sweet reviews ! And to those who keep reading discretely._

_( And you probably don't care, but this is officially my longest story ever. * cheers * I'm so moved. )  
><em>

_Enjoy !_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eight<strong>

* * *

><p><em>House and Cuddy have been more or less living together at her place for a year yet he had never told her about his musical needs. She had always known of his love of music and that it was another of his gifts, but it was never something that he'd spoken of or offered to share with her. Though not as observant as him, possibly no one in the world was, she had noticed that when lost in his thoughts, believing he's out of her sight, he'd tap his leg as if it were an ivory keyset. Cuddy, realizing that what gave him peace and pleasure, would give her the same finally decided to rent a piano. Clearly not the quality of House's beloved Yamaha, but still; it's a piano.<em>

_Now, the great instrument is settled down in the middle of the living room. House hasn't touched it yet, but he stares at it with longing. When night comes, Cuddy feigns being tired, going to bed early and leaving him alone in the room. A few seconds after she has sprawled on the mattress, she hears him familiarizing himself with the new piano. A few notes here and there, and then the silence. She imagines him smiling and caressing the gleaming ebony with his long pianist fingers. Eventually he starts playing something that sounds like a ballad. Calm and sober at first, the tempo progressively accelerated from adagio to presto. Notes carry on, filling the whole house with their deep and strong tones, and then the peace after the storm; the softness comes back. She thinks she recognizes this song, though she has forgotten the title, something by the Rolling Stones. After that, he starts on another song, sadder and more melancholy. It doesn't seem to fit with his current mood and he stops before even reaching the chorus and starts something more cheerful._

_She can't get enough of the sound, but she is growing restless with just her imagination; she wants to see him play. She gets up and walks to the living room, trying her best not to make a sound. He's probably too involved in his music to hear anything else, though. She hides in the doorway. His back is turned to her so she can't see as much as she'd like, but she doesn't really have a choice. When it comes to his music, he is way too timid to deliberately play in front of her._

_He freezes. She holds her breath, afraid she would betray her presence._

_"I know you're there," he simply says, not even turning around. He doesn't need to see her to know when she's there; he feels her presence._

_Defeated, she cautiously draws closer to him. He begins playing again and she risks sitting on the bench beside him after a long hesitation. He doesn't stop his music, completely imperturbable. She is not even sure he noticed her. She doesn't dare look up at him and keeps her eyes on her feet. Cuddy lets herself be carried by the melody and wakes up from her reverie when silence settles around her._

_She turns to him. He stares at her deeply and she immediately feels her cheeks blushing. A bit uncomfortable, she puts a hand on his knee as thanks._

_"'You coming to bed?" she asks, even though she would prefer to spend the whole night listening to him._

_"Later."_

_She nods, pecks him on his cheek and quickly stands up. He catches her hand, places a light kiss on her wrist, another one on her palm and lets her go with a smile._

_Cuddy falls asleep easily, happy that he opened his artistic heart to her._

_House wakes her up in the middle of the night._

_"I composed something. You have to hear it."_

_Mechanically, she slides an arm over his side of the bed. The sheets are cold and intact. She doesn't dare take a look at the clock._

_"You haven't even slept," she grunts, half-asleep._

_"Come on, get up!" he insists, as excited as a kid._

_She can't say no. She never could. In his excited state, he briefly considers carrying her to the living room to hurry her along. Arriving at their destination, he immediately sits and starts playing. She pretends to still be groggy, but she is perfectly aware that he is playing... playing for her. She mentally counts the pages as he turns them. Ten. Ten pages, just for her. The song comes to an end and she asks him to play it again. He cheerfully complies._

_She lays a hand on her womb and her head on his shoulder. His composition sounds joyful, lively. Cuddy can hear all his happiness through his music, and she suddenly feels incredibly proud. She makes him happy. Her… only her. So happy that he is opening his heart completely to her, something he has never done with anyone before. She is so proud to be his!_

_She wraps an arm around his back and grips his hip through his tee-shirt._

_Hopefully one day, he'll sing for her._

There was no more music in the apartment. The night had come. The curtains were ajar, letting a ray of dull light make its way in the silent room. Cuddy was relieved not to be in a total darkness.

She heard a sniff next to her. House was lying on his side of the bed, under a blanket he had brought. She rolled onto her back, as if she were asleep and discretely opened her eyes.

He didn't notice her movement. Bright tears were silently streaming down his cheeks; his hands were folded on his abdomen. She felt her throat tighten. He was suffering alone, not even trying to reach for her help or her support, as usual. She rolled on her side, as naturally as she could, and curled up against him, her forehead resting on his shoulder and her hand on his. He turned his head and cast a wet glance at her. House whispered a few words she didn't understand and, thinking he had spotted her, she was about to give in when she heard:

"I'll take care of your mom, Mary."

Did he know she was listening to him?

"I know I failed before, but I promise I will do better."

Cuddy didn't make a move, completely paralyzed. She was mentally struggling not to burst into tears in front of him.

His fingers escaped from hers, he covered her with the blanket and she immediately felt its warmth overwhelming her. He took her hand in his, his thumb brushing against it, drawing flourishes on her skin.

She waited for him to fall asleep, not wanting to cry with him awake, but he remained wide awake all night long. Heavy-hearted, she eventually dozed off.

* * *

><p><strong>Soundtrack<strong> : _Unconscious Forest _by Gontiti

* * *

><p><em>They're both lying on their backs. He's been awake for a while, watching her sleep. House is used to insomnia. He thinks and re-thinks too much to fall asleep. And he has gotten out of the habit of going to bed early. Last night, Cuddy fell fast asleep as soon as she sprawled on the bed. Just like most Fridays. Sometimes Thursdays. Her weeks haven't been more exhausting than usual, but she quickly gets tired because of her pregnancy. All day long House sees her running around the hospital. When they meet for lunch, she barely has time to eat and leaves him finishing his plate alone. He would like to keep her locked at home just to avoid her feeling exhausted. He can't help but feel worried about her, about their baby. The workaholic needs some rest, now!<em>

_Nearly nine a.m. Rachel is about to wake up. It's not this fact that worries him, though. He's able to take care of the kid now. They've had time to get to know and accept each other. What he wants right now is to have some time alone with Cuddy. And she is still fast asleep._

_At least that's what he thinks._

_During the night, she took off her pajamas and pulled the sheet down to her thighs. She is naked, her dark hair spread on the pillow, and her hand nonchalantly placed on his chest. House stares at her gorgeous body, drafting a mental map of her hills and valleys for the umpteenth time. He knows her body by heart but she's still so mysterious and surprising, it seems like there is always something left to discover. A beauty spot he has never noticed before, a new little wrinkle... He loves every part, every details of her being. Even her minuscule wrinkles are sexy!_

_Suddenly she wriggles, stretches and moans, rubbing her curves against him. He watches her; she rolls on her side and turns her back to him. She keeps up the pretence of being asleep but he knows she's playing. And he is going to play, too._

_Once he removes his boxers, he rolls onto his side as well, buries his nose in her soft hair and wraps a possessive arm around her waist. He places a kiss on her cheek, another one behind her ear and another one on her neck. She turns her head and kisses his lips._

_"Dr. Cuddy is up?" he teasingly asks._

_She rocks her pelvis and her ass meets his hard arousal._

_"Looks like Dr. House is up too."_

_She opens her eyes, meeting his. They share a wicked smile. Then a kiss. And another one. A multitude of kisses, pecks, bites and licks. Cuddy tries to turn over so she can reach him more easily. A firm hand on her hip tells her not to. She groans with frustration and he quiets her by kissing her hard on the mouth. For a little playful revenge, she pins herself against him. She knows he just can't resist her hot body against his. Soon, he groans against her neck and gently bites her. He slips an arm beneath her to cup a breast in his large palm. He feels the weight of it, caresses it, skilfully toying with her nipple, causing it to harden even more. His other hand runs along her thigh, lightly caressing her with his fingertips, creating a soft shudder, going from her pelvis to her knee. She flutters under his touch, lasciviously purring. She feels his hard cock throbbing against her butt and she can't help but moan, craving more. He kisses her nape again, devouring her neck. His hand makes its way from her leg to her womb and lingers there protectively. Cuddy writhes, surrounded by all his sweet and tender gestures. It feels like his hands, his mouth, are everywhere on her bare skin. She feels safe, loved. She can't recall feeling that way before. An intense and endless happiness takes grip of her foggy mind._

_"House," she calls out in a whisper. She turns her head and their eyes, darkened with desire, meet again. They admire each other for a moment, fascinated by this new sensation. They often hurt each other because that was the way that they learned to love each other, but this bitter-less feeling they are now experiencing is... nice. Maybe they'll get used to it. Maybe they'll learn to protect this fragile happiness._

_He covers her lips with his. She would prefer to keep her eyes wide open to look at him, to devour him with her eyes. She can't help but let herself be carried away with the sweetness of his embrace. She loves when he acts like this with her; when he expresses all his love for her and doesn't timidly hide his complicated feelings behind the walls he built around his heart. She loves when he opens himself to her and their passion turns nuclear, radiating throughout their bodies and reaching the deepest of their beings. She arches, grabs his hand splayed on her stomach and squeezes it. Their gestures turn frenzied but their kisses remain slow, teasing, lingering._

_Cuddy supplely lifts her leg, inviting House to take possession of her. The position becomes uncomfortable and she has to let go of his mouth, but she wants to look him in the eye as he slowly and deeply pushes into her. As they share a final kiss, House curls up behind her and kisses her sore nape. They wait a few seconds, her body filled by his, savouring their intimacy. Finally, Cuddy rocks her hips, her lover follows her move. Their rhythm is slow, their thrusts passionately coordinated. Their fingers, still intertwined on her womb, caress one another. Their union is, once again, a synonym of perfection._

_Cuddy moans louder when he accelerates._

_"Touch yourself," he breathes. His hands are busy and he refuses to release either her stomach or her breast. She complies, knowing what he would do to her if he could. Her fingers leave his, slipping from her navel to her labia. They wander along the folds of her wet lips, eventually finding her clit. Her thumb delicately presses it, as House would. Her index and middle fingers take over with a circular motion, keeping pace with his thrusting. She is on the edge and he feels her inner muscles tighten around him. She tries to restrain herself, but he clearly has something else in mind. He sucks and nibbles her earlobe and she immediately explodes. He slows his thrusting, letting her compose herself. Her clit now too sensitive, almost painful and she again laces her hand with his on her belly, wordlessly telling him to start again. This time, his thrusts are not as forceful, knowing what she needs after her climax. He takes his time, letting the tension in the small of their backs grow and grow, becoming electrical as he brings her to a high voltage climax one more time. Instantly following her over the edge, he releases his burning semen inside of her. _

_Keeping their hands laced together over her belly, she toys with his fingers as the frenzy dies away, giving way to an intense feeling of well-being. House carefully slips out of Cuddy, holding her tight against his chest. She manages to turn over and huddles in his arms. They don't say a word, shaken by the power and force of their tenderness, patiently waiting for the day to start._

* * *

><p><em>TBC... Keep the reviews going !<br>_


	10. Chapter 9

_Hey guys ! This is probably my last update before I go on vacation to England next week. I'm having a huge lack of inspiration but don't worry, I'll be back with tons of Huddyness on August 20th or so. ;)  
>So this chapters contains references to 3x09 ' Finding Judas ' and 7x01 ' Now what '. Also, its French translation caused some tears when I posted it a month ago, I'm warning you !<em>

_Enjoy!_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Nine<strong>

* * *

><p>House could hear her whining in her sleep. After spending nights and nights watching her sleeping, he knew exactly when she was about to wake up. Usually, her eyebrows and nose would scrunch into a frown, and then she'd lick her lips; as she was emerging from dreamland, she wouldn't open her eyes, as if trying to enjoy as much as possible the warm cloud she was in. A warm white cloud in the bright blue sky made just for them. A cloud created so that they could lie in the grass and stare at it, imagining its different shapes.<p>

This time, however, she seemed to be emerging from dark and stormy weather.

Cuddy was curled up into a ball, the sheet tightly wrapped around her. He placed a hand on her shoulder and gently shook it, tearing her away from her nightmare. She grumbled, opened her eyes and turned over to face him, holding her stomach. She was vaguely aware of being up, knocked out by the pain.

"'Hurts so much," she uttered before convulsively closing her eyes again. He sighed and reached for the orange bottle on his bedside table. He grabbed one Ibuprofen pill and placed a hand behind her head to help her swallow it. Then she noticed she had soaked the sheet with her own blood.

"Oh shit," she mumbled. "I'm sorry House, I'm so sorry..."

She sat up and leaned her back against the headboard.

"It's not a big deal," he tried to soothe her. "I'll change it."

She felt tears rolling down her cheeks. She couldn't figure out why she was feeling so sad about a sheet. Maybe it wasn't the sheet, maybe she just needed to let her emotions out, needed some relief after falling asleep with a desperate need to cry.

"It's ridiculous." she said. "I shouldn't be crying over that but I–"

She folded her legs and buried her head in between her knees. He saw her trembling and he took her in his arms.

"Shh, shh. It's okay," he whispered. "Let it out."

She cried for a while, slowly rocked by House, until she was only letting out small sobs here and there.

"I'm going to draw you a bath, 'kay ?"

She nodded and then added, "Not a secret magical bath this time."

He chuckled and didn't see her smirk. She eventually raised her head and looked up at him. Her hair was a mess; her eyes were swollen and reddened. Even after she had cried, he thought she looked beautiful. But he would never admit it to her.

"You look like crap," he said instead, making sure she could hear the joke. "You really need a bath."

She giggled and she seemed even more beautiful to him. "Thanks."

She blew her nose in the already fouled sheet and tried to get up, until her lower abdomen painfully reminded her of its presence. She gave up and sat back.

"What time is it?" she suddenly worried, surprised to see him already dressed.

"Eight. I couldn't sleep."

He didn't give any further details. She already knew why, anyway. And obviously, they weren't going to talk about it.

"Greg House being totally awake at eight a.m., it's a red-letter day."

He awkwardly smirked.

"Maybe we could take that bath together?" he suggested.

"Sure."

He rose and limped toward the bathroom. Cuddy listened to the water filling the tub for a moment, staring into the distance. House was acting as if nothing had happened last night and it was scaring her. He seemed to be insensitive and safe from all the difficulties they were going through. For once, she was weaker than he was. But it didn't mean he was strong. He was fragile, too. And because he was keeping it secret, she had no way of knowing how he felt. Maybe they were courting disaster without even being aware of it.

She untangled herself from the sheet and angrily threw it into a ball. Tonight, she would be prepared for her bleeding.

House called her. She picked out a pair of black pants, panties, and a dark sweatshirt from the bag lying at the foot of the bed. She headed into the bathroom, and saw that House was already naked, waiting for her. As usual, she gave him a hand to sink down in the tub. At first, this gesture had seemed uncomfortable for both of them. For him, it was humiliating to need her to take a bath. For her, it was awkward to know she might fail and possibly hurt him. Now they had gotten comfortable with this. He sat in the bath tub and she slowly let go of his shoulders, making sure he was alright.

"You know you need to take those off if you want to have a bath," he said.

She cocked an eyebrow and then realized he was talking about her outfit, completely soaked with blood. She winced.

"Cover your eyes," she replied.

He complied even though he thought this was ridiculous. He had already seen her naked hundreds of time; she had no reason to not feel comfortable with her nudity. She didn't want him to see her bare now that she hated her body for not being able to give birth. He heard her getting rid of her dirty clothes, throwing them into the bedroom with the sheet. Then she cautiously sat in the tub in front of him, her back pressed on his chest.

"Can I open my eyes now?"

"Yup," she agreed, once she made sure he couldn't see much of her body. She didn't even know why she had agreed to the bath if she felt so uncomfortable being naked in front of him. She hadn't wanted to disappoint him. And she wanted to recover the closeness between them. Also, she just wanted some relaxation.

She was dangerously tense, though. She wasn't letting herself go, and he could feel it. He shouldn't have opened his eyes, now he had no idea where to put his hands. He opted for the edge of the tub by default. She was so anxious that he believed she would explode if he touched her. Once upon a time, he had his arms wrapped around her frame, and she had trustfully rested against his torso.

He decided he would try to distract her.

House grabbed the white soap, sitting forgotten beside the silver tap. He plunged it into the warm water to lather it, scrubbing it between his palms. Then he took Cuddy's hand and drew long lingering squeezes all along her knuckles. She moaned, enjoying the unexpected massage. He moved to her palms and the back of her hand after he had cleaned underneath her nails. His hand rang along her arm, spreading soapsuds on her pale skin, feeling her thin bones and her firm muscles. She finally leaned against him.

"Oh… don't stop." she breathed.

He reached her shoulders, ventured along her collarbone and clumsily wandered to her neck but didn't linger there before moving to her other arm. She folded it, following his move. As he got to her hand, their fingers intertwined and remained this way for a moment, forcefully laced. She tucked her head in the crook of his neck and softly kissed his Adam's apple. Finally, they were beginning to feel better. His free hand found shelter on her thigh under the water. She shrugged but didn't reject it.

Then he loosened his embrace a bit, she bent over slightly and gave him access to her back, which he tenderly stroked, drawing senseless patterns from his tortured conscience. Cuddy was literally purring, arching and wriggling to meet his passionate fingers.

"Oh, right there!" she almost cried out in relief when his thumbs pressed on the small of her back. After spending several day and nights lying in a hospital bed, all of her muscles were unpleasantly stiff. He pressed harder; the circles he was drawing on her skin grew bigger and ran along her spine. She arched again in a heavy sigh of well-being. He was disappointed not to be able to see her face. Especially in bed, he always loved to watch her when she was attaining the very last stage of ecstasy.

She fell back against him, half-conscious. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, slowly soothing her as she was recovering from her near-orgasm.

She brutally reacted when one of his hands went down to her stomach.

"House, no. Please, don't touch me!" she protested. He didn't listen to her. He knew this was awful for her but he had to do it, so she could love her body again. Even if it was damaged and dysfunctional, it was hers and she had to accept it. Plus, whether it was dysfunctional or not, it didn't matter to him. She was still gorgeous. And he wanted her to know that.

"Don't!" she yelled as his palm moved to her flank. She struggled, squirmed, tried to escape. His arm was forcefully surrounding her frame, leaving her helpless.

He reached her womb. His touch was so painful to her; she thought she would lose consciousness from fear and the painful emotional. She couldn't bear the idea of him touching this destroyed part of her. She hated it. She didn't even want to remember she had carried a baby. It was too horrible to happen to her, to them. It couldn't be real, it couldn't!

In a desperate move, she accidentally hit his bad leg. He tried to hold back a groan of pain but he grunted anyway.

Once she realized what she had done, Cuddy immediately froze. Right now, she didn't care about her, she cared about him.

"House," she murmured.

"I'm fine," he lied, tightening his embrace.

"House, I'm so sorry..."

"I deserved it."

She sighed and plunged her hand into the water with no hesitation, searching for his thigh. She slowly massaged it, paying attention to every single reaction of his. She felt him let the tension out and he kissed her shoulder blade, thanking her and wordlessly telling her to stop.

He focused on her belly. She seemed to have forgotten about his hands. He tried to touch her again.

"Why are you doing this to me?" she sobbed.

"It's for your own good, Cuddy. It's your body. You can't negate that."

She trembled. He placed his chin on her shoulder, trying to reassure her. After a few minutes, she stopped shaking, finally feeling at ease in his arms. The caresses on her belly were becoming pleasant. She didn't feel ready to join her hands to his yet, but she was clearly enjoying his strokes.

_The night is way too warm for them to sleep comfortably. They left the blinds half-opened and opened the window wide, letting in the soft noise of the natural world and sometimes the roar of a car driving along the dark street._

_They are both bare, lying above the sheets. They don't even try to touch each other, their skin sticky and sweaty; their breaths are heavy and deep, echoing in the silent room._

_House quietly stares at her. Her grey eyes are gleaming and her curves are slightly revealed in the dark. He takes his time to observe her hills and valleys magnificently drawn in black and white._

_Rolling closer to her, his head rests near her swollen breast. He drapes an arm over her belly, protectively cupping it. Cuddy doesn't make a move. The heat is too stifling for her to move. Instead, surprised by this sudden tender gesture, she just whispers:_

_"What are you doing?"_

_"Hugging my offspring."_

_She giggles. His thumb starts drawing soft circles on her skin without him noticing. He curls up against her, thinking that his body perfectly fits with hers. She slips her hand in his hair and tenderly caresses his scalp, watching him from the corner of her eyes. He seems lost in his thoughts. After a while, he rises and sits beside her. He bends over, places his mouth on top of her womb and lays a lingering peck there. She smiles, his stubble lightly scratching her skin and contrasting with the softness of his thin lips. He lies back, buries his nose in her neck and wraps an arm around her stomach._

_"I love your belly," he murmurs. "You'll be a great mom."_

_Cuddy's arm surrounds his shoulder. He continues._

_"I'm sorry I told you you'd suck as a mother. I didn't mean it."_

_"I know you didn't." He opens his mouth but she shushes him. "I've already forgotten."_

_"You haven't."_

_She sighs, staring into the distance. He is right. She will never forget. Even now, his words still hurt. She pictures the scene again, her sitting under a shower nozzle with a child in her arms, and him shouting these horrible things at her._

_"I haven't." she admits._

_He lifts his head and kisses her cheek._

_"You'll be a great mom, I have no doubts. You're already great with Rachel," he says again._

_"And you'll be a great dad," she smiles at him. "You are."_

_He doesn't know how to answer. They have never talked about him being any kind of a father to Rachel. He loves spending time with the kid but Cuddy has never really given him her blessing. Her grin grows wider before his sudden shyness. She cups his jaw in her palm._

_"I'm proud of you House."_

_He looks up at her with an intense glance. He feels so happy but it's so hard to tell her. Instead, he kisses her lips ardently, expressing all his feelings through that kiss. She wraps her arms around his neck, letting him deepen their embrace. Soon, they have to pull apart to grasp some air. He places his forehead against hers, looking her in the eye. He feels her dozing off and so does he. He gently lays her back before rolling onto his side beside her, his arm around her belly._

* * *

><p><em>TBC.. Keep the reviews going please!<br>_


	11. Chapter 10

_Hey everyone ! So this is -really- my last update before my holidays ( England, I missed you so much! ), but I'll have plenty of time in the train for writing and translating. Hope you'll enjoy this chapter !_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Ten<strong>

* * *

><p>Cuddy shivered. The water had gotten cold.<p>

She reached for the tap but House caught her wrist before she had time to. He clearly had an idea in mind.

"Wait a minute, I want to wash your hair." he said.

Surprised, she cocked an eyebrow, which he couldn't see, and then bent over to unplug the tub and pick up the hand-held shower head and handed it to House. He checked the temperature of the water before wetting Cuddy's hair. She squirmed as she felt the hot water sliding down her back and her face. He quickly turned off the tap and took the bottle of almond shampoo. After laying a dollop of white cream into his palm, he pushed aside the locks of hair sticking to her shoulders. He slowly made his way up to her scalp, gathering her hair onto the top of her skull. He rubbed her head, his fingers digging into her messy hair and the soapy snow. She moaned, pleading for him to keep going. He had such skilled hands. Playing the piano or the guitar, executing surgery, massaging her aches and caressing her body, he could do all that with so much dexterity; it had always amazed her. Compared to hers, he had huge hands, and those hands were more talented than her thin fingers. He reached her nape, scrubbed it, until going back to her hair and twirling it between his fingers. There was almost no water left in the tub as he thought he was done with shampooing her and he turned on the tap to rinse away the foam. His hand was running down the length of her hair and she closed her eyes, definitely relaxed. He paid attention making sure that he didn't leave one single drop of soap behind her ears, even soothing her hair after it was wholly cleaned. When he was done, Cuddy turned around to lay a peck on his lips.

"Thank you." she said before she rose. House made a move to follow her but she stopped him. "Wait, I sprinkled water on the floor, you may slip."

He slightly smiled at the attention and sat back, watching her making a dash to their bedroom to slip on her black panties. She came back to him with a couple of towels, throwing one on the floor in front of the ceramic tub. He took the hand she was holding out, stood up and stepped over the bathtub. She wrapped the both of them in the same towel and he couldn't help but pull her into a tight hug. She huddled against his chest, and her hands came to rest on his large arms. She listened to his quiet heartbeat as his hands were possessively lying on the small of her back. After a few minutes, he made her step back and she complied.

"Come on," he said, his hand wandering in her raven curls. "Let's take care of that hair."

They walked this way to the bedroom, House grabbing a comb as they passed the shelves. He unwrapped the white cloth from his waist, climbed on the mattress with his back pressed against the headboard. She joined him and settled between his legs, her back turned to him. She let him wipe her curls with the towel then he laid the piece of material on her shoulders, preventing her from being scratched by the teeth of the comb. He cautiously untangled her hair, undoing every single knot and soothing it away, droplets of water running down her bare spine. A furious rumbling suddenly radiated from her stomach.

"Hungry?"

"Starving," she responded.

"I'll hurry then."

She felt him pulling a bit harder but still gently on her hair. A smile appeared on her face. She was oddly pleased that he was taking care of her this way, as if she was the child they would never have. She started wondering if he would have acted like that with Mary or if his behaviour with her was just a consequence of the _event_. She unconsciously let out a melancholy sigh.

"There's a new diner that has just opened down the street. Maybe we could go grab a bite to eat there?" he suggested.

Cuddy hawed for a moment. Going out wasn't part of her plans. She was refusing to leave their nest, not wanting anyone to see her, and more importantly, the body that failed her.

"Why don't we just stay here?" she nervously asked. She was sure he had a tangible argument though.

"Because I haven't gone shopping in a while and I don't think ordering a pizza would be that great for breakfast."

It indeed hit the bull's eye. She couldn't possibly argue back.

"Okay, let's do this," she agreed, even if she was dreading it. She just didn't want to disappoint him.

As a comfort, his hand started caressing her thick hair, running all along its length. Then his hands wandered over her body until he surrounded her waist with his arms. Her fingers laced with his and they remained embraced for a while, as Cuddy was letting the tension out. She had no reason to be scared of the outside. House was with her.

"Let's go get dressed," she said, jumping out of the bed. This was the reaction he had expected. He didn't make a move and Cuddy turned around.

"What?"

He smirked and stared at her.

"Nothing," he answered as he slipped to the edge of the bed. "You're amazing."

She grinned and moved back to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and gently kissing his mouth as he held her back.

"You're kind of surprising, too," she whispered. "Thank you for being there."

She was about to say that she was extremely happy that he hadn't abandoned her and was behaving as a responsible adult and taking care of her as she needed him to. Maybe this was too much. She didn't know how to express all her gratitude. Words wouldn't probably be enough.

"Always," he promised before placing a soft peck on her collarbone. He let go of her and she walked to the bathroom, quickly dressing as House was doing the same, putting on a pair of jeans, a white top and a cerulean shirt. Throwing a new sheet on the bed, he heard her turning on the hairdryer. After he had tucked the large material under the mattress, he opened the closet to pick out a pair of sneakers. Cuddy joined him, her dense hair curling on her shoulders and down between her shoulder blades. She looked around the room, in search of her shoes.

"Stop staring at me like that; it's creepy," she protested, feeling his glance on her. She spotted her shoes at the foot of the bed and sat beside House to put them on.

"It's your hair. Looks great."

"That's because you took care of it with tons of love."

She had to admit that her hair looked gorgeous today, thanks to him. She remembered how he used to complain… a lot… about her sometimes rushing through her 'hair care regime' before. But it was his own fault. She just hadn't had enough time, because he would hold her back in their bed every morning.

_Seven a.m., Wednesday. The alarm clock rings. As usual, Cuddy takes a few seconds to wake up and feel wholly on top of her form. She reaches out to quiet the shrill sound, House's embrace making her move a bit awkwardly. She writhes against him, finally reaching the clock. As silence fills the room, she slips out of the bed but is pinned back on the mattress by House's arm around her waist. He rolls to her, lying flat on his stomach. _

_"House," she calls out. "I have to get up."_

_"Give it five minutes," he grumbles._

_"House!" she protests in vain. He lets go of her hips and crawls under the blankets. Soon, he pulls her top up to her chest and she feels his mouth on her four month pregnant belly. _

_"Hi, offspring," she hears. "Did you sleep well?"_

_She chuckles. "It's actually a good thing that you sleep late. You're cute in the morning; that would kill your reputation."_

_"No one has to know about it. You promise not to tell anything to anyone, dear offspring?" he continues before kissing her womb again._

_"Aren't you forgetting someone?" she asks. _

_He comes out of his hiding place beneath the covers and sits next to her._

_"You want to say 'hi' to Little Greg?" he asks, pointing at the bulge in his boxers. She rolls her eyes. He smirks and sprawls beside her, cupping her face in his palm._

_"Just kidding," he whispers. "Hi, beautiful mother of my offspring." He then places a lingering, passionate kiss on her mouth, slowly sliding his tongue between her lips. Welcoming him in, she opens her mouth. As she feels a dangerous heat overwhelming her, Cuddy pulls apart from him. She really needs to get up. Smiling up at him, she tries to flee. It was a wasted effort. He grabs her waist before she has time to go._

_"Five minutes haven't passed yet," he reminds her, wrapping his arms around her. She sighs. _

_"I never agreed to give you five minutes."_

_It is so hard to resist the rarity of him being in a cuddly mood, she just wants to enjoy it. If only she could pause the time!_

_"Fine, you win," she gives up, hugging him back and entangling her legs with his. "Wake me up if I doze off."_

_As she snuggles against him, she knows there isn't a chance in the world that he would wake her up._

* * *

><p><em>"Momma!"<em>

_Cuddy opens her eyes as Rachel climbs on the bed. Kissing her daughter's cheek, she drapes her arms around the little girl's tiny frame, as Rachel nuzzles in the crook of her mother's neck._

_"Hi Sweetie. You sleep well?"_

_The toddler nods. "I had a dream, __mommy.__"_

_"Really? What was it about?"_

_"That's secret," the little girl teasingly answers. Cuddy smiles._

_"You won't even tell me?"_

_"Nope!"_

_"Let's keep it secret then."_

_Rachel huddles in her mother's arms. As Cuddy rocks her daughter, she casts a glance at the clock._

_Eight a.m._

_She is supposed to attend a meeting in exactly an hour._

_"What the..." she mumbles. Turning around, she notices that House has left their bed without waking her up. "I'm going to have to talk with your father."_

_She freezes and frowns. Did she just say 'father'? Rachel doesn't seem to notice. It just sounded so natural to both of them._

_"Where is he actually?" she asks._

_"In the kitchen, making pancakes."_

_As Rachel answers her mother, House calls out to her from the kitchen. "Breakfast is ready!"_

_The little girl gives her mom a last peck and runs to her pancakes. Cuddy pinches her arm just to make sure she's not dreaming. Turns out she's wholly awake. House is really cooking pancakes and she really called him Rachel's 'father'._

_And she really is late for work._

_She jumps out of the bed, cursing between her teeth._

* * *

><p><em>"House, are you kidding me?" she yells more than asks as she enters the kitchen. "I have a meeting with the board in half an hour, how do you possibly expect me to be there in time?"<em>

_"Doesn't matter. You're the boss," he replies sitting at the table. "Take a seat."_

_"You seem to forget that I have a boss, too," she says as she rushes to put on a pair of black stilettos, which fit with her dark outfit. "And I don't have time to take a seat."_

_"You seem to forget that Offspring and you need a breakfast!" he yells back. Then he hears the hurried clack of her heels on the floor. She stops in front on the mirror to fix her messy pony tail._

_"I told you to wake me up!"_

_"Turns out I dozed off before you did. Take a pancake, Rachel says they're delicious."_

_"They are!" the little girl cheerfully confirms, kind of amused by the interaction of her 'parents'._

_Cuddy hisses: "I don't have time for breakfast, thanks to you." She kisses her daughter goodbye and as she hurries toward the hall, searching for her car keys, she shouts at him, "You better be in the clinic at ten!"_

_"You take this," he orders as he forcefully puts a rolled pancake in her hand. She swallows a mouthful in a dash, congratulates his cooking skills with a thumb up and slams the door._

_"You have a crazy mom," House sighs when he sits back next to Rachel._

_"I have," she confirms as she struggles with a spoon full of strawberry jam. Her 'father' gently takes it from her hand and spreads the compote on her pancake._

She gave him back his cane, which was left against the wall. He thanked her with a smile and took her hand to lead her into the corridor. As he slipped on his woollen black coat she liked so much, she chose his grey jacket. The sleeves were barely short enough to leave her fingers overdrawn and the garment ended near her mid-thighs.

"You don't want your coat?" he asked. "Yours seems much warmer."

She actually preferred his because it hid her body. But she wouldn't admit it. He grabbed a black scarf and wrapped it around her neck.

"Put this on, you're gonna catch cold."

She smirked, reached for the hat on the shelf in the closet and placed it on his head.

"Put this on, you're gonna catch cold," she laughed. He altered it and tucked his ears beneath the wool. She couldn't help but say, "You're so cute."

"This is not exactly boosting my ego. Plus, it's terribly itchy."

"Come on, weakling!" Cuddy cheered, catching his hand. "Let's go have breakfast. I'm hungry!"

She dragged him to the front door. He was glad to see her so joyful, but this satisfaction was a bit spoiled by the fact that he knew it wouldn't last.

* * *

><p><em>TBC... Keep the feedback going please ! ;)<em>


	12. Chapter 11

_I am late. Sorry ! I know I was supposed to update as soon as I come back home, but suddenly I had so much things to care about... * sigh *_

_Also, thank you for your lovely feedback ! I Wish I could reply to you all. Hope you'll enjoy this chapter !  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eleven<strong>

* * *

><p>"Do you like the place?"<p>

Cuddy looked up at him as he sat down in front of her in a maroon booth, her fork picking at her apple cobbler.

"Yeah, it's nice," she nodded, looking around the place once more. Some old photos printed in black and white were framed and hung on the red brick walls, which fit with the red and white tiled linoleum. An ancient jukebox was playing blues songs – mainly by Muddy Waters – in the background, giving an old-fashioned ambiance to the brand new place. The large windows, half-covered with falsely broken blinds were perfectly cleaned, offering the tables beside them a bright light, which was even illuminating the mahogany bar against the opposite wall. In case the daylight wasn't enough, bright pink neon bars were fixed above the windows. Cuddy's gaze was focused outside. The sky was cloudy, letting out thin beams of sunlight here and there. The snow on the pavement had now completely melted away, and she frowned seeing a big, dark, threatening cloud on the horizon.

As her attention returned to the table, she noticed House scrutinizing the restaurant. She knew he couldn't help but analyze every situation he was in.

"So what's the story?" she asked, swallowing the last bite of her cobbler and starting on her pancakes.

"See these two lovebirds behind you?"

She turned around to see two people sitting next to each other.

"He's cheating on his wife with that chick," he continued.

"Because he has a ring and she doesn't? They may be brothers and sisters," she said, turning back to him to spread blueberry jam on her pancakes. "Plus, if he was really having an affair, he would have hidden the ring."

"He's sitting next to her. They're obviously not here to talk. You may have noticed that before; it's kinda complicated to speak with someone next to you while eating," he explained, miming someone who would awkwardly crave their neck to shoot a glance at a ninety degree angle without turning from their plate, which made her smirk. "He keeps his ring because she knows he's married, so it's a serious affair. And they're here to share some discreet love."

He cast an interested glance behind her and then made a face. She turned around to see the couple kissing in a dribbling way.

"Eww," she pouted. "You're right. They're definitely not brother and sister." She turned back to him with a wicked smirk. "Or maybe they are, after all."

He stared at his fork, stopped halfway in between his mouth and the plate and put it back on the table.

"Oh, shut up. How gross is that," he bleated.

"Since I spoiled your appetite, can I have your eggs?"

"My eggs?" he repeated, a naughty smile drawing on his face. She rolled her eyes and pointed at his plate. He faked surprise then placed his elbow on the table. "You're going to have to win them… arm wrestling."

She cocked an eyebrow. He would let her win anyway.

"Okay," she agreed, putting her elbow beside her plate. "Just don't pretend to be a weakling; I want to deserve these eggs with glory."

"I thought I actually was a weakling."

Cuddy grinned. "Then prove you're not."

He grasped her hand. As she pulled and he pulled back, he felt her bare foot tiptoeing all the way along his leg until reaching his crotch. He gasped, looked up at her and she cast him an intense gaze, biting her lower lip. Before he had time to realize what had just happened, she pinned his arm against the table.

"You cheated!" he protested as she grabbed his plate.

"Yes I did." she admitted with a grin.

Pulling back the plate, he said, "That's not fair."

"Fine. Let's split 'em fifty-fifty," she conceded, taking her knife. She cut the fried eggs down the middle.

He sighed, "Looks like I don't have a choice."

"No you don't."

She smirked, putting the fork into her mouth. They finished the plate in a compatible silence, then House started on the toast, after spreading it with peanut butter. As he bit into it, she suddenly started to laugh.

"What?" he worried, "Do I have something…?"

"Wait." She stood up and sat beside him. "You may not have noticed this before, but it's kind of complicated to kiss someone over the table."

He smiled. She grabbed the collar of his shirt, covered her mouth with his and passionately licked his lips, pulling back as he was responding ardently to her embrace, thinking about where they were.

"You had peanut butter…" she just said. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders to bring her closer to him and placed his chin onto the top of her head. She picked up a piece of pear off her plate and bit into the fruit. Juice slid down her fingers and House caught her wrist and sucked her juice covered fingers one by one. She gasped as he bent down to kiss her lips also covered with sugary juice.

"You had pear juice…" he mimicked.

She smiled and huddled against his chest as he kissed her hair.

"So how about we go for a walk?" he suggested. "There's a small park, two minutes from here."

"A walk in the park? With your leg?"

"I'm not that crippled," he answered, a bit offended.

She pursed her lips. "I'm sorry, I... I meant, it's cold. It will stiffen your muscles, and I don't think your leg will…"

"I'll be okay," he cut her off.

She sighed, not convinced, and then nodded. Once he had something in his mind, he wouldn't give it up, and she knew it for a fact.

"Fine. Let's walk."

She was feeling grateful, but also a bit uncomfortable knowing he was making an effort to please her. Without 'the event', this wouldn't have happened, and that was shattering her heart.

Maybe she should just enjoy it.

* * *

><p>They were peacefully dawdling in the small park, not uttering a word. Their hands forcefully clenched together. The nightmarish-shaped branches of the bare trees were chilled from the freezing February breeze which was scattering the piles of dead leaves along the path House and Cuddy were following. The park was almost empty, except for a few courageous joggers.<p>

As the walk was getting monotonous, Cuddy eventually spoke up, "We could rent a movie or two for this afternoon."

With this suggestion, she tried to take control of her day. Since she had followed House's plans until now, then he would follow hers for what was next. He had always accused her of being some kind of a control freak.

"Sure."

"What kind of movie would you like?" she asked after a brief silence.

"I don't know," he replied. "Whatever you want."

"Stop it, House," she sighed. They stopped. Cuddy let go of his hand. "Stop being so… nice. I don't want a kind House, I want you. I want the House who would have told me to rent a porno! Not to 'choose the movie'! You've never let me do that!"

He stood there frozen in shock. Was she really complaining about him being thoughtful? And, even worse, were they really about to fight about a stupid movie? She lowered her head as she continued, "You bathe me, you massage me, you wash my hair, you take me out to grab a bite to eat. You even take me for a walk in the park even though I know your leg hurts. And don't deny it, I felt you squeezing my hand to ease your pain!"

"Cuddy..." he tried. What could he say anyway? He couldn't deny nor forget his pain. He couldn't explain himself because he had no explanation. He was trying to take care of her, that's all.

"I don't think I deserve all this," she nearly burst into tears.

"Excuse me!" a woman called out behind them. House stepped aside to let her go through. She was holding her kid's hand, who was about the same age as Rachel. Her husband followed, pushing a pram. The diagnostician stared at them for a moment. This family, as the one they had passed in the hospital hall the day before, was what he and Cuddy would never be, happy parents with two adorable kids. His hold on the knob of his cane grew firmer. She was right, his leg hurt like hell. The weather, tensing all his muscles, was too cold for him to walk. As he turned his head, he saw Cuddy mindlessly observing the family that had just passed them, until they were out of her sight. He didn't dare take her hand, afraid that she might reject him. He couldn't handle her refusing his hand as a comfort.

She didn't make a single move to reach for his hand either. She needed it, though. Without his touch, she was feeling alone and weak, but he was probably too upset to accept taking her hand.

"I think I need to sit down," she mumbled, feeling a white hot, burning pain settling in her lower stomach. House nodded noiselessly, heading toward the nearest bench. He heard her uncertain footsteps behind him, turned around to grab her wrist and gently led her to the bench. They sat there quietly, careful to settle with minimal distance between them. An awkward silence followed. House was rubbing his thigh and Cuddy bent over, breathing deeply to get rid of her aches.

"I'm sorry," she said as she sat back. She felt terrible for pushing him away and spoiling such a good moment.

"You deserve all this. You deserve someone who cares about you. I acted like a coward, I let you down, again and again. Let me take care of you. I want to. Not because I have to, but because I need to," he explained, his wariness causing him to look down at his shoes. It felt so hard to actually admit he cared this much about her, even if she already knew it. He had never told her with words though. She knew it, that's all.

"Did you take Vicodin?"

He lifted his head and honestly answered, looking her in the eye, "No. I'm done with that crap."

She nodded.

He frowned, "Why do you even ask? You don't trust me. You don't think my behavior is genuine. You don't think I can handle this kind of responsibility. You don't think I am able to…"

"I think you're fragile, House," she cut him off. "I think you're hiding, because you are afraid of collapsing. If you don't show your feelings, it's like you're bulletproof. But it's not reality. You're lying to yourself, because if you're not there for us, we're screwed."

He couldn't argue with her, because she was indeed right. Yes, he was hiding his feelings from her because he hadn't the right to be weak. If he didn't look after her, no one would.

"I'm scared," she stammered. "I don't know what I want. I don't even know why I'm acting like this, with those outbursts and flurries of tears. And you... you seem like you can't feel anything. I'm so incredibly sad, and you seem so insensitive. I feel so alone."

"You're not alone."

"How are you House?" Cuddy asked. He replied, staring at the floor:

"I'm fine."

"Look at me."

He slowly, painfully lifted his head, scared of what he was about to see. He had heard her tears in her voice, he didn't think he was capable of seeing them rolling down her cheeks. She tucked her thumb under his chin and turned his head to her. Their looks met and she intensely stared into his cerulean eyes, which left him feeling emotionally naked.

He couldn't lie to her again. He had to be honest. They wouldn't be able to pull through this with lies.

"I'm not okay," he whispered so low that he wasn't sure she had heard him. Then he dropped his head down again. "When I left after you delivered, I went back to my apartment. I drank every bit of alcohol I could find. I just needed to forget all this… forget you. Then I pictured you saving me in my bathroom that day, holding out your hand so I could get up and find shelter in your arms. And I realized that I couldn't leave you alone, that I couldn't be this bastard you could never trust."

She quietly listened to him, not uttering one single word. As he was done, she blinked back her tears.

"I need you," he added.

"I know," was all she could say. Then she cupped his jaw in her hand and slightly stroked his stubble. "Promise me we'll talk about it if anything's wrong or awkward."

He smiled up to her and nodded. She forcefully covered his lips with hers sharing a powerful kiss which wordlessly sealed their agreement. No more lies. Just trust and honesty. Their hot mouths contrasted with the cold weather, making them even more greedy. As they ran out of air, they pulled apart but remained close, their foreheads pressed against each other.

"You're shivering," he said. "Told you you should have taken your coat." She couldn't help but chuckle. He opened his coat and tapped his left thigh. "Come here."

Hesitantly, she slid toward him and sat on his lap. He wrapped the woolen tails of his coat around her, covering her frame completely. She nestled against his chest, feeling his heat overwhelming her.

"I'll take care of you." Cuddy whispered. "Just as you're doing with me."

She craned her neck to peck his lips and he hugged her tighter, pulling her as close to him as possible. Then she noticed the tiny white flakes falling from the sky and immediately melting on the ground. As she buried her cold nose in the collar of his coat, she murmured, "I love you."

Her words turned into a white smoke, quickly disappearing through the air.

Yet they remained in House's mind.

* * *

><p><em>TBC...<em>


	13. Chapter 12

_Hey there ! So sorry for the delay. Next chapters should be published soon, if school allows me some free time.  
>I'm still not used to toddlers. Sorry if anything sounds incoherent. But I happen to work with the best beta ever.<em>

_So this chapter may contains spoilers for 7x22 ' After Hours '. Actually it's not spoilers because nothing after Fall From Grace takes place in the plot. Oh well. Just expect some bloody scallywag stuff._

_Enjoy !_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twelve<strong>

* * *

><p><em>As Cuddy puts the last plate into the cupboard and switches off the lights in the kitchen, she hears the TV in the background. Immediately, she feels a wave of irritation surging through her. House is watching TV with Rachel, which means that it will be extremely difficult to put her to bed and to wake her up tomorrow morning. She will be too tired to get up and go to school. Great. She really doesn't need this right now. The more days go by, the more exhausted she feels. Even if House is acting thoughtful, sometimes she feels like he's more of a hindrance than a help. She takes a deep breath and eventually goes into the living room. Even though the sight of her kid sitting on House's lap, with his arm is wrapped around her is absolutely adorable, she has to stop this.<em>

_"What are you guys watching?" she asks as she sits on the couch beside them._

_"TV, you bloody scallywag," Rachel replies, not even turning from the screen. Cuddy raises a shocked eyebrow and her jaw clenches shut._

_"She's joking," House reassures her. As she pays attention to the cartoon airing on TV, she understands with dismay where the 'bloody scallywag' comes from._

_"Well I'm not. House, seriously, what are you watching?"_

_"Brown Beard," he says. "It's about a pirate who is repulsive to everyone–"_

_"Reminds me of somebody I know," she cuts him off._

_"–and he has a hobby, he makes hot chicks walk the plank and then they get devoured by crocodiles, which are always madly in love with them because they have big boobies and–"_

_"I don't want to know," she interrupts him again._

_"Rachel loves it."_

_"Because there are fun words that her mom forbids her to say!" she answers back. "I can't believe you showed this to her. Who lets a four year-old watch that?"_

_He pouts. She stands up and holds out her hand. "Come on Rachel, it's time to go to bed."_

_"Wait," he protests. "The episode is over in five minutes. You can wait five minutes, can't you?" He grabs her wrist and has her sitting back next to him. "Don't worry. She's a smart kid. She understands that the pirate talk is not appropriate in a non-cartoon context."_

_"If you say so..." she sighs. "I trust you since you seem to know my daughter better than I do."_

_He turns to her, his eyebrows scrunched into a frown, "You're jealous."_

_"I'm not," she immediately denies. Though, she considers that he might be right. Probably._

_"You're jealous because you're the mom who is no fun, always telling the kid what to do, what not to do, and I'm the dad she's having fun with."_

_"I have fun with my daughter too, when I–"_

_"Stop talking, you bloody scallywags," Rachel shushes them. "I'm trying to listen. And if you don't listen to Captain Rachel, I'll make ya walk the plank, for rotten salmon's sake!"_

_Cuddy has to bite her lips to not burst out laughing._

_"Who do you think you're talking to, sailor?" House asks, imitating an old pirate's voice. "I am the super-captain here. I can have you walk the plank if I want to. And you'll be devoured by the big, big crocodile sitting next to me."_

_He tickles her ribs, Rachel starts to laugh. "Stop it, captain!"_

_He places a peck on the crown of her head and hears Cuddy sighing in relief as the end titles appear on the screen._

_She can't deny that she's jealous of how much fun they have without her, but she also can't deny that she is reassured to know they're doing great together. She had always feared that they wouldn't get along since House is kind of gruff and not used to children, but he turned out to be perfectly at ease._

_Actually, she would like to have more in common with the two of them. And House is right when he says she's no fun. She's not too strict either. She just likes everything to go smoothly. Even when she's playing with Rachel, she's not fully involved. Not like House. He has always been a bit less serious than she has, and when he plays with her kid, he looks like a six year-old. And she's indeed jealous of his ability to have fun._

_"Hey, Crocodile," House calls out, tearing her from her thoughts. "You getting up or what?"_

_She looks at him and stands up, "Sorry. I was thinking."_

_"About what?"_

_"None of your business."_

_She turns off the television, shuts the lights off and follows Rachel down the corridor leading to the bathroom. Hearing a chuckle behind her, she whirls around and cocks an eyebrow, "What? Why are you laughing?"_

_"Nothing, I was just thinking... Can you picture Rachel saying 'bloody scallywag' to your mother?"_

_Yes… she can. She can also imagine Arlene's face if her grand-daughter ever says it to her. And she can also imagine her reaction. Arlene would open her eyes wide, say that the Goya man who fornicates with her daughter taught something naughty to Rachel again, and then she would swear in Yiddish._

_"Oh please. No." she laughs._

_"That would be awesome."_

_She leans against the wall to compose herself. Then she feels a large hand taking hers._

_"Come on, Crocodile. Let's go brush our teeth."_

_"Call me that again and I'll throw you to the sea," she threatens with a smirk. "Read her a story next time."_

_"A pirate story?"_

_She rolls her eyes and squeezes his hand._

* * *

><p>Cuddy let out a long yawn and stretched out as House rose to turn off the television and replace the DVD in its box.<p>

"What did you think of the movies?" he asked, sitting back down next to her head as she lies on her side. She puts her back head down on his lap, recreating the position they had been in while watching the two films.

"Not that bad, but I expected much better," she replied. "I preferred the first."

"You say that because you chose that one," he said, slipping a hand in her hair. "But you liked the one I picked too!"

"I actually chose that one because I was sure there would be no gross jokes about sex."

"They were fun," he protested, noticing that she didn't deny enjoying it.

"They were gross!"

"You laughed," he fought back.

She bit her lip, defeated. "Fine. I did. But I did because it was stupid."

"Not buying it," House teased her, tickling her ear.

She poked him on his knee. This was the Cuddy he loved the most, the Cuddy who acts genuinely and doesn't have to behave responsibly like she does in her hospital. The Cuddy who lets everything go and laughs at stupid jokes.

"So, now what? It's too early for dinner. Third movie?" he suggested, his thumb now slightly caressing her cheek.

"God, no. My eyes are killing me," she complained, squeezing them shut. "We'd better go shopping."

"Tomorrow."

She nodded and sighed, staring into the distance. Something was bothering her and he knew it. He always knew it.

"Hey, what's up?" he asked, bending over to have a better view of her.

"Nothing."

"Something! We've just had a lot of fun and you sigh. There's definitely something."

"Fine, there's something," she gave up. Why was she so scared anyway? She trusted him; she knew that he wouldn't take her back to her house if she wasn't ready to go. Sighing once more, she admitted in a whisper, "I miss Rachel."

"Me, too."

And then he remained silent. Confused, she lifted her head to look up at him. "That's it? You're not insisting on taking me home?"

"Why would I? I promised you we wouldn't go back to your place until you're ready. Are you?"

Cuddy smiled, placed a hand on his chest after she sat up and he surrounded her shoulders with his arm. "I'm not, but..."

"You should call her." he said softly as she huddled against him, in search of comfort. It felt so good to be close to him. Even after all this time, she would never get tired of this feeling.

"I should," she repeated. Nothing else followed.

He frowned and then smiled as he understood; she was actually too nervous to phone her kid. She blushed as she noticed his smirk, suddenly feeling uncomfortable in his arms. Yet she didn't try to move from his embrace.

"Don't mock me," she demanded, foreseeing a sarcastic comment, even though she knew he was trying to be kind to her.

"I'm not mo–"

"I feel awful," she cut him off. "What kind of mother stays away from her own child like that?"

"You can't blame yourself. You need back-up, and that's normal," he reassured her, his calloused hand running up and down along her spine in soothing motions. "And it will be fine, eventually. You need time, that's all."

"How much time? It's already been a week since I last saw her," she sighed. "We've never been apart that long. Ever."

Seeing her blinking a bit more than usual and hearing this unsure tone in her voice, he knew she was just about to cry. Again.

"We're together. I'll wait for you," he promised. "And when you're ready, we'll go home."

This time, she couldn't help the rush of emotions and hormones rising up and didn't even try to restrain the tears from streaming down her cheeks. It felt amazing though. Amazing to hear him promising to her what she thought would never be possible for him. Yet, she already more or less knew it, but she needed to hear it, needed him to say it to her. House wrapped an arm around her waist, cupped her jaw in his palm and started to kiss her face, kiss her tears. When his wet lips reached hers, she kissed them with sweetness and passion.

"Thank you," she was murmuring. She had no idea what would have become of her if he hadn't been there to support and comfort her. Maybe she wouldn't have survived.

He grabbed his phone from the coffee table and put it down on the armrest of the couch. She shot a panicked glance at him and asked, worriedly, "What am I going to tell her about Mary? My mother hasn't said anything yet, I'll have to explain and I – I don't think I can, I…"

"We'll call her together," he reassured her. She nodded as he pulled her into a tighter hug and let her compose herself, gently rocking her. Cuddy pressed her face against his chest, feeling it moving up and down at the rhythm of his calm and appeasing breath. Once she was ready and he didn't feel her trembling in his arms anymore, he reached for the phone and dialled the number of Cuddy's place. While waiting for someone to pick up, he checked the time on his watch. Five p.m., Rachel has just come home from preschool.

Cuddy was squirming beside him, impatience had replaced her fears. He smirked and kissed her lips. Not to calm her down, just because he needed to. He had always had this need to kiss her, all the time. It could be a need of a toe-curling, passionate kiss, or just a quick peck. He believed that frustratingly waiting for her for twenty years had caused this constant, unrestrained want of affection from her now that she was his.

"Hey Julia," he spoke up as he heard Cuddy's sister's voice. "This is House, is Rachel home yet?"

He waited for a few seconds and moved his phone to his left sear so the receiver was between Cuddy and himself. She drifted closer to it, pressing her ear against his.

When she heard her daughter saying a cute 'Hi Hows' through the phone, it felt like a nuclear explosion of immense joy inside of her racing heart. And House knew it at the sight of the smile illuminating her face. One of her rare and genuine grins, her lips truly expressing the joy in her heart.

"Hello, you bloody scallywag," House answered, pulling his free arm around Cuddy's frame to hold her close. "Your ma's with me."

"Hey Sweetie," Cuddy said then.

"Momma! I miss you!"

House saw her beaming again. And he was sure that Rachel had the exact same smile on her face.

"I missed you too. Very, very, very, very, very much," she looked up at House and her hand moved up to run along his jaw. "And so did House."

"Yeah I did. I had no buddy to watch TV with. I was so bored," he confirmed, taking her hand to noiselessly kiss her knuckles. "I hope you're not torturing your auntie too much."

"I hadda eat spinach," the toddler immediately complained. "I hate spinach."

"It's good for you," Cuddy said. House cast her a repulsed glance, which she smirked at.

"Your mom's wrong. Spinach is disgusting and totally useless. It just makes you poop."

They heard the little girl giggling. Her mother was in heaven. Even if she felt frustrated at being unable to see her, at least she could talk to her; hear her laugh, her voice and her breathing.

"How was your day at school?" Cuddy asked.

"Good. Miss Finch gave us stuff to color and we learned a song about the afabet," she cheerfully answered. "When you coming home? Grandma said you tired."

"I am, but Captain House is taking care of me, I'll be back very soon. I promise."

"Is that 'cause of little sister?"

Cuddy looked up at House, panicked. Rachel continued, "When do I get to see her?"

She pleaded with him with a terrified glance to improvise and save her. She had no idea what to say. How she could possibly explain such a complicated situation to a four-year-old without shocking, confusing or hurting her? Her explanation had to be clear but hopeful, which Cuddy was unable to be right now.

"Hey, have you seen the latest episode of Brown Beard?" he asked after a brief silence, hoping that the kid would let the topic drop. He assumed Julia wouldn't let her niece watch this kind of cartoon, and he hadn't watched it yet either. He'd been busy picking up Cuddy at the hospital at the time.

"No," Rachel responded in a low, disappointed voice. "Auntie said I had to take a bath."

"Tell your auntie that you can't miss the next episode. I've heard Captain Brown Beard found a new chick. And maybe he won't have her walk the plank because he has the hots for her."

Cuddy rolled her eyes, "Honey, tell her also to avoid spinach. Broccoli is much better."

They smiled at each other. "Yeah it is," House conceded.

The family kept speaking together for several moments, and felt that the time had gone by too fast when they realized it was already six, and Rachel had to go have dinner. It was so hard to say goodbye.

"When we goin home?" the toddler asked again, as her aunt was telling her to hang up in the background.

"As soon as we can, sweetie," Cuddy promised, blinking back her tears. "Hopefully just a few days."

"We love you," House added, uttering the words she didn't dare say. "And we'll miss you very much until we're home."

"Love you too." they heard before the conversation ended.

House tossed the phone back on the table, a smile on his face. He had missed the kid. Much more than he ever thought he would. He turned back to Cuddy, expecting to see her sad after he had heard the tearful tone in her voice but, against all the odds, she had a grateful smile on her face. All he could do was smile back to her. She was glad to know that he wasn't hurrying her to go home, that he was patiently waiting for her.

He held out his hand and pulled her closer to him. She curled up against his chest and lay on the couch, feeling peaceful and safe.

"You know we have to tell her eventually. Ignoring the issue won't make it disappear."

"When we come back home, we'll do it."

"It took you days to tell her about your pregnancy, with your mother it took you weeks. How much time do you think you will–"

"Shut up!" she answered back, slightly angry at him. "It's really not the time to talk about it."

She hated this. She hated when he had to analyze and criticize everything. She hated when he was spoiling their good moments together.

"You're right," he admitted. "Sorry."

She turned over to face him, their eyes met. Lifting up her hand, she lightly touched his cheek with her fingertips, as if she were discovering a new part of him. House took her hand in his, kissing her fingers one by one. He was staring intensely at her, and she could read the love he had for her in his cerulean eyes. She smiled up to him, and then flipped over on her back, resting her head on his lap and grabbing his hand to put it over her ribcage. The warmth of his touch overwhelmed her and, almost immediately, she drifted into a light slumber as his fingers were brushing her ribs through her clothes.

* * *

><p><em>TBC... Reviews please ? * hug *<em>


	14. Chapter 13

_Hi there ! Thank you so very much for all the feedback, it is very appreciated ! Hope you'll enjoy the following !_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Thirteen<strong>

* * *

><p><em>Cuddy opens the front door with relief, enters her beloved house and drops her purse and bag at her feet.<em>

_"I'm home," she shouts, knowing that House is already there. She hears his voice, though she can't discern what he's saying from the back of her house, probably Rachel's bedroom. She sighs, kicks her stilettos off relieving her pained ankles. Cautiously sinking down to the floor, she sits with her back against the door, stretching out her swollen legs. Another long and tiring day done. She slips out of her jacket and her loose top with a relieved groan. She may be exhausted but she won't stop doing her job until her pregnancy becomes a problem. For now, she manages to hide her round belly underneath large clothes, but it won't last. She will need to take some time off when she nears delivery, and she's dreading telling the board about the pregnancy. Being the only female on the hospital board has always been hard, and she is aware that it won't be easy being pregnant with the child of the doctor they all hate. Even her relationship with House has never been really approved of. There wasn't anything the board could do. She'd followed every rule in the PPTH Employee Handbook, everything required by Human Resources, but she knew that privately they didn't approve. She knows that they are required by law to give her time off for the birth and first months of motherhood, but she is concerned that they will try and manufacture a reason to fire her. She'll sue them if they dare and though believes she won't have much trouble finding a job near Princeton, losing the hospital she has always cherished is something she can't even imagine._

_Cuddy places her hands over her womb, staring down at her pointing navel with a proud smile, which fades away when she realizes she is scared of losing her baby, too._

_She's forty-four, has already miscarried, and has no idea how she still managed to get pregnant. This fetus is at risk, though the Dean of Medicine keeps working hard._

_It forces her to make a tough choice: her job or her family._

_Sighing once again she gets on her feet. Too tired to pick up her stuff, she makes her way to her room to put on one of House's t-shirts. Taking off her skirt, she slips on a comfortable pair of yoga pants and closes her closet._

_When she enters Rachel's bedroom, she finds House sitting on the old couch, her daughter on his lap and a pile of books beside them. The diagnostician is holding one open in front of Rachel, reading it over her shoulder._

_She pecks the child on her cheek, the man on his lips, and sprawls beside them. Her curiosity winning over her tiredness, she takes a look at the books, recognizing none of them._

_"You bought these?" she asks in a surprised tone, interrupting his reading about some sailor dog who wears a yellow coat when it rains on his ship._

_"Yeah I did."_

_And he gets back to the sailor dog._

_"That's so nice."_

_He rolls his eyes behind his glasses, "Cuddy, I'm trying to read!"_

_She smirks, knowing he's glad that she noticed the books are not hers and that it pleased her. She quietly listens to him telling the story, until he reaches the end._

_"Nother one!" Rachel immediately requests._

_"We've been through all of them. We're not gonna read them again today, are we?" he kindly refuses, "Tomorrow if you like, okay?"_

_He smiles as she turns to her mother, convinced that she will have a better chance at being told a story._

_"Momma?"_

_Cuddy jerks open her eyes, shaken out of the light slumber she had fallen into._

_"Yes honey?"_

_"Read me a story?" the kid asks, putting a book into her hands._

_"Uhh, not tonight, sorry," she apologizes. "I'm too tired."_

_Rachel nods and curls up against her chest, "You hafta sleep, Mommy."_

_"Take the day off tomorrow," House suggests, yet it sounds more like an order._

_"No way, I have two important meetings. Can't miss them."_

_"Don't forget to eat then," he reminds her, aware that she often forgets meals and just skips them. "You know what? I'll bring you your lunch, that'll be easier."_

_She looks at him with a small smile gracing her lips, loving how he takes care of her._

_"And wear flat shoes, otherwise your ankles are gonna burst."_

_"What? Why?" she frowns. "What's wrong with my ankles?"_

_"Your ankles," he says, pointing out at them, "are swollen."_

_Cuddy looks down at her feet. They're painful, yes, but her body aches everywhere anyway. Though, perhaps, she sees them a bit larger than usual. He lays a hand on her stomach after pulling up her top and whispers:_

_"Hey, Offspring. Be nice to your ma. Don't make her puke too much."_

_She chuckles. Every time he touches her belly, he seems amazed by this life-to-be growing inside of the woman he loves. His eyes gleam and a light, subtle smile draws on his face._

_"Can I touch, too?" Rachel asks in a timid voice._

_"Of course you can, honey."_

_Shyly, the girl places her tiny hands beside House's on her mother's smooth skin. She feels the warm roundness of her belly underneath her palms and lightly caresses it, as carefully as if she was discovering a new territory._

_Cuddy looks down at them, a grin on her face. Then she realizes that choosing them over her hospital would be much easier that she originally thought. As fragile as her family might be, she needs to protect it. Whatever it takes._

* * *

><p>He was waiting.<p>

He was waiting there, sitting in front of his piano in his dark living-room, surrounded by the silent night. He was waiting for the moment when her happiness would fade away, as if he were lying on a railroad, expecting a train. He sadly smirked at the metaphor. Her mood was his train, likely to crush him at any time.

Cuddy woke up with a start when somewhere in her sleep she felt the emptiness of the bed. She sat up and shot a glance around the room plunged into darkness, tainted by a thin ray of light escaping from the slightly open curtains. House wasn't there. She knew he was near his piano, thinking. And somehow, it made her sad that the instrument was his shelter and she wasn't. Why couldn't he think lost in her arms? She wished he caressed her while getting lost in his tumultuous and brilliant mind instead of caressing an ivory keyset.

She took a deep breath. Her womb was starting to wake up too; enough to make her almost re-experience the pizza she had eaten for dinner. Scanning the room once more, she was unable to find an ibuprofen bottle. She sighed and got up on her feet, clenching the t-shirt House had lent her as pajamas.

He heard light footsteps in the corridor and quietly waited for her to arrive. She stopped in the doorway, too timid to draw closer to his piano, which now seemed frightening to her. They stared at each other for a moment until, seeing her holding her belly, he made the first move and said, " Drag that sweet ass of yours over here," patting the bench he was sitting on.

He grabbed the ibuprofen bottle and popped it open. Cuddy moved to sit beside him, and he let drop a pill in the palm of her hand. After she had swallowed it with relief, they just sat there in complete silence.

"I can't sleep," she eventually said, shivering as she heard her own words, her tone deep and indiscreet in the quietness. In all honesty, she could sleep, just not when he was away from their bed, which she would likely never admit to him. "Play me something."

Wordlessly nodding, he placed his hands over the keys, mentally searching for a song that would fit with her sleepy mood and soothe her. Silent Night would do so. The music imprinted in his memory, he started to hit the keys, recreating the soft introduction he knew by heart. As he continued, Cuddy closed her eyes and, to the surprise of both of them, she softly hummed in rhythm with his piano. He smiled and continued, repeating the soft song, making it as long as he wished. He loved music, but especially when she participated. Even if she didn't know how to play, she would always find a way to do something with him. At first, he hadn't felt comfortable playing in front of her but time had passed, and she had become his favorite partner. In spite of his shyness concerning his art, music with her was something he'd never get tired of. Coupling with her to create something new and unique. Just like making love and creating an offspring.

He immediately stopped his music when the thought crossed his mind.

He should have done this when they had made love and procreated. Stop in the middle of the action.

"House?" Cuddy murmured after a few seconds of troubling silence. He rose, nervously massaged his forehead. They should have never seen each other for their first anniversary. Never.

House turned around, holding out his hand to her.

"Come here."

Looking up at him, she grabbed it. Slowly, he led her into the center of the room, between the fireplace and the coffee table. He turned to face her, his body brushing hers but not fully touching it, placed a hand on her lower back, the other one over one of her shoulder blades. She smiled, understanding his move. Her arm circled his waist and she placed a hand on his firm biceps.

"How long since we've danced?" she asked in a whisper.

"A while."

Pretending he was playing again, they started moving together on a song only they could hear echoing in their heads. Their movements were slow, lingering. They would just rock their pelvises, peacefully milling around.

He couldn't remember last time he had danced with her. It was a long time ago, he was sure about that. They don't go out much because of Rachel, and his leg didn't allow him a lot of fantasies either. A dance with her was something he couldn't afford. His body was a prison he was stuck in, unable to accomplish ordinary love acts with Cuddy, convicted, forced to just sit and watch. Though, being so close to her, feeling the warmth emanating from her and mixing with his, her hair tickling his ear when she would bury her nose in his neck, the light touch of her fingers on him, was definitely something that made ignoring his pain worth it.

Cuddy shyly leaned over to put her chin on his shoulder. The gesture caused her body to collide with his. Feeling her quivering at the sensation of her round but empty belly pressed on his abdomen, he held her tighter, his arms wrapping around her back. They continued their slow procession for a while, until Cuddy felt a tearful freshness on her temple, where House had pressed his stubbled cheek. Instead of asking him what was wrong – he wouldn't give her the answer she already knew anyway – she placed a kiss in the curve on his neck. He didn't reject her, so she dared lift up her head. He entangled his fingers in her raven curls, insidiously pulling her face back against his chest.

"House."

He knew he had promised he would let her take care of him, but he had to protect her first. Seeing him cry wouldn't help her at all.

"House, it's okay," she murmured reassuringly. "Trust me."

Feeling a little more secure, he let her look up at him, focusing his gaze away from her face. Then he felt her mouth kissing the tears streaming down his face. As she laced her arms around his neck, he timidly placed his hands on her hips, pulling her tighter against him, realizing it was okay for him to let go. Then she rose up on her toes, careful not to meet his glance, and she kissed his mouth, bringing into the kiss all the comfort she could give.

He would always wait until night time to cry. At night, he could hide somewhere and be sure no one would find him in an emotional moment. But Cuddy didn't want him to hide from her.

Before he knew it, she had led him into their bedroom. Not breaking their embrace, not pulling apart from him, she lay down on the mattress, bringing him with her. He let her, lying down with her, finally finding his shelter tangled in the sheets with her arms tightly wrapped around his shoulders.

* * *

><p><em>TBC... So this was the 13th chapter, and I am a bit superstitious. Please leave a review and ward off bad luck ? Hehe (;<br>_


	15. Chapter 14

_Hey everyone ! Here is chapter fourteen, the following will take a bit more time than usual since my homework is eating the few free time school leaves me ( OMG, I haven't written in a week, how's that possible?). Smut warning, hope you'll enjoy it ! *giggle*_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Fourteen <strong>

* * *

><p><em>When Cuddy climbs into bed for the night, House is already settled, just beginning to doze off. The magazine he'd been desperately trying to read has fallen out of his hands and was lying open on his lap.<em>

_"Rachel's asleep," she says, curling up against him above the covers. "It's Saturday night, and–"_

_"And you're horny." he cuts her off, tossing the journal on the floor. "I know."_

_Opening his eyes, he realizes that she's wearing nothing. Not even a nightie or one of his t-shirts as he expected. Nothing._

_"Ooh, Dr. Cuddy is naked tonight," he teases, slipping out of the sheets to lie above them as well. "I like that."_

_He rolls on his side and wraps a firm arm around her waist. He can't help staring down at her, making her blush. She subtly hid her breasts in the crook of her arm, her hand resting on his chest; the curves of her magnificent thighs and her swollen belly conceal her sex. She let her hair fall free, her curls tumbling down her shoulders. Her whole body is aglow from the lamp on the bedside table, drawn in a warm, golden shade._

_"You're a perv. You know that, right?" she rasps, clenching his shoulders and placing loving kisses all over his jawline._

_"What!" he protests, "You almost rape me and I am the perv?"_

_"I didn't almost rape you!" she replies, feigning indignation. In fact, he is right. Every time she can, she tries to have sex with him. The worst part is she can't help wanting his body, wanting all of him. She's barely able to control her lust. And tonight, she really wants him. Just the sight of his bare, well-built torso drives her desire higher._

_"Yes you did," he insists._

_"I didn't! I did jump you; which is totally different," she growls, her tongue venturing down his neck._

_"You didn't even ask if I was willing," he gasps as she bites him._

_"I didn't hear you complaining." _

_She moves back to his chin, pecks the corner of his mouth but never reaches his lips._

_"You didn't ask!" he continues, though it's getting harder and harder to think straight, and his pants suddenly feel too tight, as his cock starts to wake up. He can't ignore her lips on his face and his neck, he can't ignore her sweet love bites and teasing kisses. "I'm only here to satisfy your pregnant woman needs."_

_His hot breath tickling her ear, she can't fight back a moan. She doesn't just want him, she needs him. She needs his body; she needs sex with him, needs him to take her. Knowing she's just about to lose this little battle of theirs, she pushes him onto his back. As expected, he doesn't offer resistance to her._

_"If I jumped you right now," she breathes in his ear, her body straddling his, her breasts brushing his chest and her hair caressing his face, "would you complain? Would you push me away? Or would you satisfy all my needs?"_

_She nibbles his earlobe one more time before pulling back and staring down at him, his swollen lips and his darkened eyes. He's utterly aroused and so is she. Just seeing him so lustful inflames her lower abdomen. And she wants him to play the part of the pyromaniac; not the firefighter._

_"Give it a try," he replies, casting a defiant but playful gaze at her._

_And she obeys._

_Against all the odds, she doesn't swoop down on his lips. Following her animal instincts, she rises on her hands and knees, turns around and begins to slide his pants down his legs. House smirks and grabs her ass so she lays head to foot above him. She trails back up his legs, first with her hands, caressing from his ankles to his inner thighs, not forgetting to give his wounded leg all the attention it needs, and then replaces her fingers with her greedy mouth, laying wet kisses here and there. The closer she draws to his erection, the more she accentuates her starving strokes._

_"You naughty girl," he grunts, gently spanking her. "You just want to suck me off, don't you? You want my cock in that sweet little mouth of yours."_

_Her answer is a lascivious purr. He knows the dirty talk turns her on, especially now that she has some semblance of control over him. Fighting and fighting back, struggling for domination, their game will never end._

_"Then you may do it; you deserve your reward."_

_Once again, she docilely obeys._

_Cuddy kisses his groin and, gaining more confidence from the uncontrolled jerk of his hips, she moves to his balls. Chastely licking them at first, she eventually takes one of them into her hot mouth. He lets out a long approving moan, clutching the cheeks of her butt. His nails dig into her flesh, leaving a mark there, his mark. He closes his eyes, not being capable of seeing anything right now anyway. This wet heat around the most sensitive part of him is almost too much for him to handle; he has no choice but to clench his eyes shut. Though, as incredibly wonderful as it feels, his shaft is throbbing in need of attention. A small, thin hand fisting him eases the tension a bit as Cuddy now places her lips on his other testicle, wrapping her tongue around it. Her hand circling his member, she slowly massages up and down its length, taking her time. Meanwhile, House brings her hips to him; guiding her so her calves rest around his head and her wonderfully wet folds are in reach of his mouth and fingers. As Cuddy lets go of his balls to focus on his erect penis, his large hands run all along her thighs, then venture over her ass, squeezing her cheeks and occasionally spanking them just for the pleasure of seeing them bounce. With each spank, they turn a deeper shade of pink, finally beginning to turn red as the force of his hand slamming against her butt increases. With each slap, he hears Cuddy squeal and moan, though muffled as her mouth is stretched over his shaft._

_"House," she gasps when his hands wander across her inner thighs, very close to her sex but far enough away to leave her panting and craving so much more. He smirks at the view of Cuddy writhing to get his skilled fingers nearer her entrance._

_"Lie down." he orders. She does so after a short hesitation, in fact afraid of crushing him. "Come on, you're not that heavy," he reassures her, gently pushing on the small of her back. "You're beautiful."_

_She smiles at the compliment, "Thank you."_

_"Actually, what I see now is beautiful," he adds, tapping her ass and then kissing the spot where his palm met her flesh. She can't stop her smile from growing wider. Her gorgeous breasts are pressed on his stomach, her belly on his muscled chest, her torso fully covering his. The feeling of her body on his, her sweaty skin sliding against his is beyond amazing. They're so close to each other and yet they still need even more. Cuddy places a kiss just below his navel, then sucks on his skin until reaching the small amount of hair covering his pubis. Bringing her pelvis as near as possible, House brushes her slit with the tip of his tongue, causing her to whimper. Her tongue eventually joins his hard shaft, licking it up and down in a lingering rhythm several times, until engulfing his glans, and she is rewarded with a deep, guttural groan._

_"Feels so good," he murmurs as she twirls her tongue around him. Thanking her and returning the favor, he passionately kisses her folds; his lips caressing her lower lips, letting her juices fill his mouth. She lets out a satisfied moan, hushed from the tip of his cock between her lips. His tongue flicks against her clit, pushing it back and forth, alternating between teasing, slow motions and violent, determined ones. He slides back to the edge of her entrance, then slowly moves to the front, his mouth buried in her slit. Cuddy, meanwhile, keeps sucking on his glans, taking her time to taste and enjoy it. Her hand is pumping his length in a painfully slow rhythm. He tries to focus on Cuddy, tries to focus on the pleasure he's giving her not on the pleasure she's giving him, yet he almost loses it when she finally takes his entire cock in her mouth, instantly deep-throating him. Trying her best to adapt to his size, she keeps him there until she's breathless. Releasing him to catch her breath, she strokes his balls and licks the side of his swollen shaft. Her chest lifting at the crazy rhythm of her breathing against his lower abdomen drives him even madder with desire. He knows she has him so close and he won't last long. He returns all of his attention back to her round, flawless ass, provocatively wriggling inches away from his face. Cuddy cries out as he slips three fingers into her, caressing her soaked inner walls, sliding in and out._

_"So close," she grunts, her body already trembling. She quickly takes him back in her hot, welcoming mouth, bobbing her head up and down and sucking her cheeks in. She pushes his dick deeper at every thrust, making guttural and unrestrained sounds as the tip of his cock meets the deepest of her throat. House's tongue joins his fingers buried in her core, thrusting back and forth and twirls around her clit, circling it and taking it between his lips. His arms wrap around her waist, holding her close as he feels her shaking and her movements on his length becoming erratic. Plunging him once more into her throat, she barely has time to foresee the huge wave of intense bliss and pleasure hitting her, caused by the amazing sensations of House fucking her with his mouth and fingers and the feeling of his dick filling her mouth completely. She screams, his throbbing member gagging her and he doesn't need anything else to cum right there, burying his face in between her legs to prolong her orgasm as much as possible. He shoots his hot semen down her throat, she can feel it as it slides down inside of her and she is forced to swallow, but she can't taste it. She lets go of him with a pop, resting her head on his good thigh to compose herself._

_"Cuddy," she hears after a few minutes of silence broken by the sound of their panting breathings, "As much as I love your ass, I'd prefer to see your face rather than that."_

_"Yeah. Sure. Just a minute, I need to... wow!" she exclaims before collapsing on the mattress. House slips back under the covers, she manages to crawl back to him and follows him underneath the messed sheets, curling up against his chest as he pulls her into a hug. _

_"You're so good at that," he whispers, placing a lingering peck on her forehead._

_"Good at what?" she frowns, confused and incapable of thinking properly._

_"Jumping me."_

_She chuckles, raises her head to kiss his lips and tasting herself on them. Then she tucks her head against his cheek and closes her eyes, ready to drift into the peaceful slumber waiting for her._

_"Feel free to jump me any time you want," he adds, reaching out to turn off the light before placing his arm back around her frame. "Goodnight Cuddy."_

_"Goodnight House," she mumbles before slumber wins her over._

* * *

><p>House jumped when his phone vibrating tore him out of the light slumber he had sailed into. He tried to grab it from the bedside table without waking up Cuddy, whose arms were firmly surrounding his shoulders. He took a look at the number before answering. His team.<p>

"It's four in the morning! What the hell do you want?" he harshly whispered.

Foreman answered, "We know you're busy, but..."

"I wasn't busy, I was actually sleeping. I believe most people do that in the middle of the night."

"Look House, we need you on this case. We may have lupus and..."

"It's never lupus, try again." he said, hanging up on him and tossing the phone back on the table. He huddled into Cuddy's embrace, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulders. She squirmed when the cell vibrated again, thankfully though, not waking up. He cursed, thinking about turning off his phone. But he was incapable of doing that, knowing there was a medical puzzle waiting for him. So he just picked up.

"If I hang up, it was actually to end the conversation. Not for you to call back," he stated. In fact, he just didn't want to disturb Cuddy's peaceful slumber. She seemed so relaxed, holding him against her. But he would never tell his team, he would never let them interfere with his life with her. First, he didn't want them to see the loving side of his personality; this belonged to Cuddy, and only Cuddy. Second, she spent enough time in the hospital every day, she didn't need to be involved with his diagnosis encroaching on the moments they had together at home.

"The patient's immune system is screwed, there's an underlying infection and now she's in a coma. We need to figure out which infection it is, otherwise she's going to die." Foreman poured out in one go, leaving House speechless.

He just lay there, thinking about the neurologist's words. Now that he had told him everything, he needed to know what kind of infection had put her in such an extreme situation. He couldn't let her die without an answer.

But there was Cuddy.

He couldn't disappear on her just like that. He had already chosen to push medicine aside in order to be with her, but he missed the puzzles too much!

"I'll be right there," he said, putting the phone down for the last time. He managed to escape from the desperately tight hug, stood up and stared down at Cuddy for a moment. She was already looking for something to hold onto in her sleep, now that the warmth of his body was gone. He removed his t-shirt, marked with his scent, and placed it right beside her before lingeringly caressing her hair.

He felt terrible leaving her but he hoped he would be back before she woke up and she wouldn't even notice.

He left a note on his pillow. Just in case.

* * *

><p><em>TBC.. I need to know what you guys think!<em>


	16. Chapter 15

_Hey there ! Currently taking a long, long break in my homework-Sunday, but officially searching some stuff about the Greek goddess Auxo \o/. *lazy power*  
>I'd like to hug everyone who is reading this story, and leaving feedback, which always encourages me and makes me happy. Thank you so much ! Hope you'll enjoy this chapter !<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Fifteen<strong>

* * *

><p><em>Sunday morning, Cuddy opens her eyes and, for once, she has no idea what time it is. It feels wonderful to be free from the tick of the clock and all her responsibilities.<em>

_All she knows is that her neck is resting on House's arm, she is lying on her back and his hand is protectively cupping her womb underneath the sheet. He is sleeping on his side, his face a very few inches from hers. His deep breathing tickles her ear and she can't help staring at his slumbering features. Asleep, yet not fully rested. She can read his constant pain through the wrinkles underlying his eyes and crossing out over his forehead._

_"That's creepy," he says, making her jump. She softly chuckles, he opens his eyes and their gleaming blue eyes meet._

_"What's creepy?" she asks, almost believing he can read in her thoughts. She places a kiss on his lips, "Good morning."_

_"Watching me sleep," he kisses her back. "Good morning."_

_She purrs and lays her head against his shoulder. Her gaze stays focused on his face and after a few seconds of contemplation in a total silence, she frowns._

_"I was wondering about this scar you have there," she whispers, her fingertip wandering over the tiny, circular mark on the right side of his nose._

_"Chickenpox."_

_"That's what I thought."_

_She sighs, rolling onto her side to face him._

_"You don't have one," he says. It's not even a question, it's a statement. If she had this kind of scar, he would have already noticed._

_"I never had chickenpox," she confirms, though she believes he already knows since she knew he'd gone through her medical history. He nods slightly, peering at her._

_"I like your eyes," he suddenly lets out. A few seconds pass by before he bends over to lay a kiss over her closed eyelids. "I like your nose, I like your cheeks, I like your chin, I like your mouth," he says, kissing the parts of her face as he enumerates them. "You're so beautiful," he whispers against her lips. She immediately feels her blood rushing to her cheeks, turning them rosy. A genuine compliment from House is so rare that every time, she has a sensation of restless butterflies waltzing inside her stomach._

_She wraps an arm around his shoulders and kisses him back as he gently pushes her down onto her back. He lightly pulls away and looks down at her, apparently lost in his thoughts. Sometimes he just can't fathom it. She is his. They live in the same home, share the same bed, the same meals. She is there for him and he is there for her, or at least he tries to be. It seems too good to be true. Cuddy has always been a fantasy, a woman he would never attain. And yet, here they are. And he doesn't think he deserves her. He doesn't think he deserves to see her smile as he wakes up every morning._

_"What are you thinking about?" she asks, noticing the sad pout on his face, though she already guessed. He doesn't think he deserves to be happy. And it kills her to know his thoughts, to know that he will always cast doubt on them because he doesn't trust himself._

_He is unable to utter one single syllable as she looks him in the eye. She smiles._

_"You think too much," she says as she brings him closer to her to kiss him ardently. "Stop thinking."_

_He has already forgotten how to think when he responds to her embrace._

* * *

><p>"Case solved," House announced as he sat in front of Wilson's desk, whose nose was buried in paperwork.<p>

"Great," he congratulated him, not even looking up from his work. After a few seconds of silence disturbed by a pen scratching on some paper, he glanced at his watch and suggested, "How about we grab a lunch or something? It's almost twelve."

"Can't," House promptly refused. "I have to drop by the grocery store. I tried to have Masters go for me but since she's growing up, she refused to do that and finish the report."

"Just have a drink then," he said, knowing that explaining to him that as the head of a department the paperwork belongs to him and, more importantly, that his employees are not his lackeys, would be a dead loss.

House smirked, "You're not my shrink, Jimmy."

"But you obviously need to talk."

House had no reply. Finally he sighed and then spoke up. "I left at four o'clock and Cuddy's alone."

"How is she doing? Better?"

House's silence was an eloquent answer.

"I see," he just nodded.

"She cried three times yesterday. Because of me, because I'm being an idiot. I don't think I'm that good for her."

"For God's sake, House!" Wilson burst out. "You are not leaving her. You may think you're not good for her, but the fact is she needs you. Of course she cries! Who wouldn't cry after what the two of you have been through? She just needs to let it all out. And believe me, it's not directly because of you. She is the best at handling you, especially at work, she wouldn't cry because you're mean to her. She would fight back. The way you are just helps her to get rid of her emotions."

House was just about to protest when Wilson cut him off, "She was having a child with you, it means being ready for a family life, and a family life lasts forever. She wanted you two to last forever. It's a serious relationship you have. Don't screw that up on a whim."

The diagnostician stared at him for a moment, considering his words, especially the 'forever'. Forever. Until his death. Until hers. He might not be the kind of person willing to be stuck with the very same person forever, but somehow he felt ready. It was Cuddy after all, and Cuddy deserved someone forever. He would take the risk for her. "You're right."

"Pick up her favorite salad from the cafeteria, you'll save time."

House rose, "I should call her anyway, it's pretty late." He plunged his hands into the pocket of his jeans, frowned, tried his jacket but nothing came out. "I think I forgot my phone."

"Take mine."

"Nah, she's probably still asleep, I don't want to wake her up. I haven't been gone very long anyway," he refused, yet mentally counting. Eight hours alone. But it wasn't a long time, he tried to convince himself, she was sleeping after all. "Also, I need to schedule an appointment with her gyn. Post-delivery stuff."

He turned around, already on his way out, and Wilson stopped him, "Don't bother, I'll do it. Just go home."

"You're a genius, thanks," he said before limping straight to the cafeteria.

What felt terrible to Cuddy this morning was waking up to a cold and empty bed.

But what felt even worse was finding a post-it on House's pillow.

Post-its on the pillow are never good.

She tried to drift back into slumber, but his absence made it impossible. She needed to hear his breathing near her, needed to not be alone. She gave up and, with an anxious sigh, picked up the note.

Dear Crocodile,

The team called me. They missed my awesome diagnosing skills. I should be back before you wake up but if not, you can call me at any time.

H.

It was almost eleven. Sleeping late wasn't one of her habits; he would have been home for an hour now. She reached for her phone on the bedside table, dialled House's number. Seconds later, she heard a ring in the living-room.

"House?" she shouted. "'You home?"

No answer; nothing but a heavy silence.

She had to face the fact; he was gone.

She rolled onto her side, found House's t-shirt and snuggled into the sheets. She breathed in the aroma of the garment deeply, intoxicating herself with his perfume. Yet she couldn't pretend he was there; a t-shirt just wasn't enough. Nothing could possibly replace his presence.

She had to let go of his clothing. His scent wasn't reassuring as usual; it was almost painful, making his absence all the more real.

She got up eventually, made a detour into the bathroom and was glad to find that her blood loss was now minimal before heading to the kitchen. The fridge was still empty as she had expected. She leaned back against the table, thinking. Maybe House had had a problem en route but couldn't let her know since he'd forgotten his phone.

Since he'd _left_ the phone here.

Or maybe he was having a serious problem.

Or maybe he had just run away from her.

He had left a t-shirt and a post-it, probably feeling guilty for leaving while she was asleep and vulnerable. Maybe he was getting tired of the weight she was becoming, of her weakness. Her rational mind was telling her that he would be back soon, that he wouldn't act like a coward again and abandon her. But her paranoia won over. Cuddy opened the closet she hadn't touched or even approached in the past seven months, and grabbed a bottle.

* * *

><p><em>Cuddy turns over and turns over again, snuggling in the sheets once more. She's been trying to fall asleep for over an hour, and there's no one to enfold her in their arms and make her feel safe.<em>

_House is in the hospital, so far away from her. Diagnosing. She hates when he works so late, but it satisfies him to solve puzzles and focus his mind on a mystery. And since she wants him to be happy, disregarding his needs would make no sense._

_But tonight, she is selfish. Or at least, she feels like being so. She is tired, so tired, and she is pregnant and it is so risky, and she will miscarry eventually because it has to happen, and she doesn't want to be alone when she loses her baby. She needs to see him, or at least call him, needs to hear his voice, otherwise she can already foresee a panic attack. She grabs her phone from the table and dials his number._

_"'llo," she hears after a few rings._

_"Hey. It's me."_

_"Yeah I know. So what are you up to?" he asks, and she can discern in his voice the distracted tone that tells her she is disturbing him, though he tries to hide it._

_"I can't sleep."_

_"And you want me to sing you a lullaby?"_

_She chuckles, "No, I just wanted to hear your voice."_

_"What are you wearing?"_

_"You don't want to know," she teases._

_A silence follows. She hears him brainstorming through the phone, and she doesn't feel welcome at all. Why would she be, anyway? He is busy with one of his passions, why would he be pleased to receive a phone call from her complaining about a simple insomnia?_

_"I'm gonna let you go now," she says, holding back a sigh. She can't help a sudden sadness that takes a grip on her heart, but she tries to be optimistic: she heard him. Better than nothing at all. "Goodnight, House."_

_He doesn't answer, probably too involved in his diagnosis to hear her. As tears come up to her eyes, she hurries to hang up before he realizes she is just about to cry._

_And she wonders if he would notice that tonight._

_"Cuddy, don't hang up, wait," the words rushing out of his mouth, right before she has time to press the red button._

_"Yes?"_

_"Are you okay?"_

_She smiles, maybe he cares after all. "Yeah, I'm okay now."_

_"What do you mean, 'now'?"_

_"Never mind," she shrugs. _

_"Goodnight, Cuddy," he wishes her before putting the phone down. Satisfied with the end of the conversation, she is ready to fall asleep._

_Half an hour later, she is awoken by the sound of the door of her bedroom opening._

_"Did you need something, honey?" she asks, convinced that Rachel is standing in the doorway._

_"I didn't, but you do, honey," House replies, limping to the bed after closing the door behind him, and she can't help grinning._

_"Case solved?"_

_"Yes," he lies as he settles down beside her, wraps his arms around her. She purrs, immediately reaching for him. Finally, his body is tangled with hers and his warmth reassures her. She slips back to sleep in the second._

_After all, he doesn't need to be in his office with a red tennis ball to think properly._

* * *

><p>House was driving back home, a take-out box strapped on the rear of his motorcycle. He was focused on the road, not taking any risk of losing control over his bike. Ignoring speed limits was something he had always enjoyed, both for the pleasure of violating laws and euphoria of high speed, but this was different. He was in a hurry to get back home, to get back to Cuddy, and it was nothing pleasant. It was just hurry. Then he heard an odd, tired noise emanating from the engine and he was forced to stop the vehicle on the side of the road. He tried to start it again. And again. And again. With no result.<p>

"Fuck," he mumbled. His apartment was fifteen minutes away, on foot. With some Ibuprofen he could do it. Fortunately, he had two bottles with him. It would be much faster on his bike, or if he weren't a cripple, though it seemed like he had no luck today. He couldn't even call a cab! "Fuck!" he yelled.

He thought of Cuddy left alone, tried to be courageous, grabbed their lunch and walked away after swallowing three pills.

* * *

><p><em>TBC...<em>


	17. Chapter 16

_Hi everyone ! So sorry for the late. I hope you're all still there?_  
><em>Thank you so much for the amazing feedback you left last time! I hope you'll enjoy this chapter.<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Sixteen<strong>

* * *

><p>"Hey Crocodile," he shouted as he entered the apartment. "Sorry for being so late, I had some trouble on my way home." He dropped his jacket and helmet on the couch. "'hope you didn't…"<p>

He paused as he saw the opened cupboard in the kitchen. It wasn't just any cupboard; it was their liquor cabinet. A dangerous cupboard, indeed. His fears were confirmed at the sight of empty bottles, some of them broken, scattered over the kitchen floor. Droplets of blood created a path down the hall. A chill of anxiety ran up his spine as crazy thoughts rushed through his mind.

"Cuddy?" he called out in a worried tone.

And then he saw her lying on the bathroom tiles, hugging a half-full bottle. He ran to her as fast as his leg could afford after twenty painful minutes of limping home, fell on his knees and energetically shook her shoulders.

"Cuddy. Hey, Cuddy. Wake up, come on. Come on! Lisa!"

"Where 'you, House?" she whimpered in her inebriated slumber, holding the bottle tighter. She shivered as cold alcohol slipped out of the bottle to slide over her chest. He tried to lift her, succeeding after several difficult attempts. The bottle slipped out of her hands and crashed onto the floor, shattering in a dozen of pieces. She shifted with a small cry. He caught a glimpse of a pool of vomit near the toilet seat – bad timing, perhaps – and managed to sink down in the tub with her. He grabbed the shower nozzle and turned on the tap, letting the cold water flood onto the both of them. She cried out, brutally waking up. He tightened his embrace as she was struggling to escape, holding her as firmly as he could.

"Shh, shh, stay calm. I'm here."

"What the fuck, House!" she yelled. He waited for a few more seconds and shut off the water. His leg was too stiff for him to get up immediately, so he just lay there while soothingly rubbing her back. She was shivering, her fists clenched in anger and despair. Knowing that she wouldn't be able to get out of the tub by herself, he carefully lifted her again, leaning against the wall to gain some balance and stepped over the edge.

"Can you stand up?" he asked. She barely nodded, paralyzed in cold. House slowly led her feet to the ground, she clutched his shoulders, tried to rise and cried out loudly when her left foot touched the floor, tears pearling at the corner of her eyes.

"Here, let me see," he urged, kneeling down in front of her. She reached behind and grabbed the edge of the washbasin, lifting her injured foot to him. "Looks like you stepped on a piece of glass. I don't think it's very deep," he observed in front of the slash soaked with blood, clearly seeing a material gleaming in the wound. "We need to take that out anyway." He rose, picked a pincer and a roll of gauze from a cupboard before washing his hands.

"No. House, no. Not now. It's gonna hurt," she protested.

"It's gonna get infected, we don't have a choice. Give me your foot," he demanded, sitting down. Shaking, she obeyed. "Think about something else," he said as he was forcing the piece of glass out of the cut, yet trying to be as gentle as he could. What could she honestly think about? Every thought that crossed her mind was related to her painful memories, focusing on her foot would even feel better. She whimpered, took deep breaths and gripped the washbasin, her knuckles turning white. "I've got it," he reassured her, as the piece of material slipped out of the laceration. She sighed in relief as he cleaned up the wound and wrapped the fabric around her foot before standing up. "How did you even manage to go from the kitchen to the bathroom with a piece of bottle stuck in your foot?"

She sighed, rubbing her eyes, "How d'you even expect me to remember?" He vaguely nodded.

"Undress," he said then, taking off his shirt. She attempted to do the same, but it felt like her arms were too heavy. Or maybe her mind was too cloudy to allow her to put her limbs up. Perhaps both. She sobbed.

"I'm so cold, House."

He rushed to help her out of her top and panties, grabbed a towel and draped it around her. She huddled against his torso, pressing her nose on his chest.

"I'm c-c-cold," she stammered, teeth chattering.

"I heard."

"Warm m-me up," she demanded.

"Not now, I need to take off my pants."

"I don't care, just…"

She sneezed. He had no choice but pulling her into a hug. His leg was trembling, almost betraying him, but he bore up. When she was finally standing still, he let go of her, uttered a 'wait'. He got rid of his jeans in a dash, tied a towel around his hips.

"Can you walk? Because I can't carry you to the living-room," he said with a tiny pout, almost apologizing for being weak. She made a face, feeling terrible to need him whereas he was already in pain. Yet, she tried to put a foot in front of the other, nearly collapsed after her second step. He caught her hand and pulled her arm behind his nape. "Lean on me, it should be fine."

She carefully did so, rising on her right foot. They made their way to the living-room, limping clutched to each other. He would clean up the mess they made later, right now he had to take care of Cuddy. He knelt down in front of the fireplace, grabbed some wood and old newspapers which he kept in a box nearby, threw them in the hearth and struck a match to set it on fire. Cuddy sat down beside him, bending her legs to bring them to her chest and placing her chin onto her knees. She stared at the growing flames, the paper turning dark until disappearing into smoke, the logs reddening and breaking in two, along with the sound of the fire crackling. Its warmth overwhelming her was quite comforting, but somehow it wasn't enough.

"I can't leave you alone, can I?" House sighed, rubbing his thigh. She noticed his move, noticed that he was in pain because of her. She blinked back her ashamed tears. "How much did you drink?"

"I don't know," she mumbled. "I wasn't counting."

It terrified her to realize she was telling the truth. She hadn't paid attention at all, she had just drunk herself silly, drowning her instability and paranoid fears in amber liquor. He sighed again, trying to be more discreet this time.

"I've no idea what you were looking for but…" his voice trailed off, in fact knowing what her goal was. Comfort. Safety. Whatever it took, even if she had to hurt herself to feel better. "drinking isn't a solution." He stopped. Was the former drug-addict really lecturing her about alcohol? He frowned. Yet he knew this would not happen ever again, if he looked after her. "And I know what I'm talking about."

The pain in his leg was getting slightly more bearable, his muscle relaxing slowly but surely. His bottle of Ibuprofen was somewhere in the bathroom and his cane was… Well. He had no idea. Somewhere in the apartment, where he had let it drop while running to Cuddy. He just had his hands to ease the stiff muscle.

She burst into tears all of a sudden, which left House completely speechless. He wasn't good with words, what could he possibly say to soothe her?

Though Cuddy didn't need words right now.

"Hold me," she said in a hesitating voice, scared that he might refuse because he was mad at her. He didn't. He crawled to sit behind her, stretched his legs around her and pulled her into a hug. She didn't make a move but she was feeling extremely good, realizing what she was missing so much: his strong, large arms firmly wrapped around her, his frame spooning hers, her curves fitting to his.

"I'm so sorry," she apologized, allowing the tears to trail down her cheeks. "I'm sorry I need you, I'm sorry I disappoint you…"

"You don't disappoint me, Cuddy. You never will," he promised.

"Of course I do," she yelled. "You leave me alone one single morning and I end up drunk."

He didn't say anything back. Yes, he was upset, lost, but not angry. He hadn't expected such a reaction to his temporary absence. On the other hand, he couldn't blame her. After all, with everything they were going through, he couldn't just disappear on her like that. Even for one morning.

"I'm a mess," she whispered. His fingers were running back and forth over her forearm, tickling her skin. "I can't carry children. I can't give birth. I feel so… useless."

He didn't reply. She needed to let it all out, his intervention wasn't necessary. Though he didn't agree at all with what she had said. She meant so much to him, she was anything but useless. He wished she knew that.

"Why didn't you leave?" Cuddy asked, staring at the fire.

"Do you want me to?"

"No," she quickly, sincerely replied. "Don't leave me." A full minute went by before she added, "I thought you were gone when I woke up. It was late and you weren't here and I couldn't reach you and I was so scared…" Her voice trailed off, chocked in her sobs.

"I'm here," he said, holding her tighter and dropping a kiss on her bare shoulder. "I'm right here, I am not leaving you."

"Where were you, House?"

"The team needed me, turns out it took longer than what I've planned, and after that I went to get you a lunch. Then I had a technical issue with my bike on my way home." He sighed, "I need to have it repaired." She nodded, so ashamed of her behaviour. Of course he hadn't given her up! He might have been right the day before; she didn't trust him, at least not completely. "I had brought you a salad but since I let it smash on the floor…"

"It's okay, I'm not hungry anyway," she shrugged before bursting into tears again. He was being so thoughtful and she wasn't even thanking him. Even worse, she was complicating everything with her uncertainty and doubts. He didn't deserve that.

"Come on, it's just a salad!"

"It's not that," she snorted. "You're just so… kind."

"Kind?" he repeated.

"I know it sounds weird concerning you," she chuckled through her tears. "I do appreciate that you won't let me starve to death."

"I need to. You're unbearable when you're hungry," he half-joked. "Even worse than your periods. Last time, you wanted to rip my eyes out."

"I wanted pears!"

"Not my fault if it wasn't the season," he shrugged. She rolled her eyes, her flank leaning back against his chest, cuddling up between his arms. He pressed his cheek on her forehead, gently lulling her. She sobbed for a few more times, her fingers toying with the small amount of hair on his torso, until she fell into a calm slumber. House remained awake, occasionally poking the fire to keep Cuddy warm.

* * *

><p><em>Cuddy tries to quietly get out of bed. Her mind still, she almost falls, her foot stuck tangled in the sheet. Her surprised half-scream awakens House, annihilating all her efforts to let him sleep.<em>

_"Where ya goin'," he grumbles, his hand passing over to her side of the bed to make sure she really is leaving their nest._

_"Go back to sleep," she murmurs as she stands on her feet. "I'll be right back."_

_He nods, moves his head from his pillow to hers. She stumbles on her journey toward the door, too tired to walk in a straight line. That goddamn tiredness! Part of her risky pregnancy, she assumes. Just like her sudden and uncontainable cravings that hit her anywhere, at any time, even waking her up in the middle of the night._

_This time, it's vanilla ice cream._

_She has no idea why it has to be vanilla flavored. She has no idea why it has to be ice cream. She wants some and that's it._

_She makes her way to the kitchen, opens the door of the freezer. Meat. Frozen food. Ice cubes. Ice cream… but not vanilla._

_She blinks, closes the door and opens it again. It has to be there. Maybe she is still sleeping and this is a nightmare. She wants vanilla ice cream, so there must be some vanilla ice cream somewhere in her house!_

_"The door won't close by itself," she hears House saying, limping toward her. If he managed to get up and sound like he is wholly up, then she concludes she must have been staring at the absence of ice cream for a while._

_"Vanilla ice cream," she utters in an absent-minded tone._

_"What?"_

_"There's no vanilla ice cream," she announces, her gaze stuck in the fridge. He takes a look over her shoulder._

_"Looks like you're right," he confirms._

_"I want some."_

_"It's bedtime, Cuddy."_

_He covers her hand with his and together, they close the door. She lets her arm fall back along her body, not believing there is no vanilla ice cream. He follows her move and lace his fingers with hers, gently caressing them._

_"If you're that hungry, I can cook you something," he suggests, wanting her to refuse so he will have an excuse to lead her back to their bed and get some more rest._

_"No, I want vanilla ice cream."_

_He rolls his eyes, "You have weird cravings. I bought you six pounds of strawberries and you want ice cream!"_

_"I don't just want some, I need some, House!" she protests as he pinches the bridge of his nose._

_"It's two in the morning, I'll go get you a great big tub in the morning," he whispers to calm her down, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Why don't we go back to bed and I'll let you taste my own ice cream?" he teases her, kissing the crook of her neck._

_"Not funny."_

_Cuddy flees from his embrace, obviously pouting. He follows her into the bedroom with a smirk, knowing that tomorrow she will have forgotten about vanilla ice cream._

_She'll just desire something else._

* * *

><p><em>TBC... So what do you think ? :)<br>_


	18. Chapter 17

_Hi guys! This is my last update before I get back to school in a few days (*cries*). I will try to keep progressing in the plot as much as possible until then.  
>Thank you for your sweet feedback, as usual! I really do appreciate ;)<br>I hope you'll enjoy this chapter! The end is much less drama than the beginning, you'll see.  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seventeen<strong>

* * *

><p>It had been a quiet day, in spite of the hectic morning. Cuddy had relaxed 'til the middle of the afternoon, while House had cleaned up her disaster until no traces were left. Broken glass, blood, alcohol, smashed salad; all of this disappeared, like nothing had happened.<p>

Three ibuprofen pills later, he had dragged her to the grocery store, refusing to leave her alone for one single minute. Surprisingly, she had agreed to go out for some fresh air, hidden from the cold weather and the exterior world underneath thick clothes that were too big for her, and leaning on a crutch that House had been keeping in his closet, just in case. Every time he had glanced at her, he had noticed her eyes misted with tears which she had been desperately trying to repress. He had taken her hand, thanks to the groceries packed in his backpack; he had been able to lace his fingers with his slightly crippled woman's. She had squeezed his hand, and he could swear she had smiled.

A quiet day… until after dinner. They were wordlessly washing the dishes and all of the sudden, she collapsed, her tears tumbling freely over her face. She had broken a glass in the sink and cut herself, the sting of the dishwashing liquid making it unbearable. He quickly dried his hands and sat down beside her. She was clutching her wrist, staring at the red trickle rolling down her index finger.

"What happened?" he asked, pressing her wounded finger in his palm.

"I don't know," she sobbed. "The glass just slipped out of my hand and I didn't know it was broken, I picked it up, and…"

The intensity of her tears increased as she was laboriously explaining herself. Mary, Rachel, her pain, House's which she kept causing, her damaged body, damaged femininity, her forever traumatized mind, her painful memories, all of this overwhelming her. She had to tear it all out before she drowned in her own feelings, but every time she tried it felt even worse, she would never spit it all out. She was a prisoner of this vicious circle and she needed to find her way out before she could not resist any longer.

House wrapped his arms around her tightly, but she didn't respond to his embrace. She just cried, shaking from her sobs, holding onto nothing but her fragile self, punctuating her tears with "what's wrong with me?" over and over again.

He didn't believe her. Even though he felt bad to have doubts about the one he cared about the most, Cuddy wasn't the kind of clumsy person who unintentionally gets slashed with sharp broken glass; especially twice in the same day. Something was not right.

The thought of Cuddy, his Cuddy, being out of control, shattered his whole universe, annihilating its already uncertain balance. Cuddy was always in control, most of the time she owned it, claimed it, other ways were inconceivable. After a few minutes that seemed like hours to him, she eventually fell from exhaustion and began to doze off. He carefully lifted her, carrying her to their bed. He bandaged her wound before adding an extra blanket, and quickly faded away before she realized he was leaving the room. He resumed washing up and took a quick shower before joining her.

And he slept.

Or at least, he slept if we can consider slumber a synonym of closing one's eyes, waking up with a start half an hour later to make sure she was still there, and starting over for another half-hour. Over and over again. Until she wasn't in the bed anymore. Two thirty-nine a.m. He got up, noticing her crutch was still set against her bedside table. She had _walked _out of the bed with a wounded foot. He was expecting the worst.

He found her sitting on the couch, her bandages ripped off and her wounds left bare. She didn't notice him, staring into the distance. So he slowly drew closer to her.

"Cuddy," he uttered, trying to catch her attention. She just blinked. As he was about to sit beside her, he saw the pale green box tossed on the coffee table. The box he kept at the top of one of his bookcases, under a pile of books. Morphine. Just for extreme situations. Not easily in reach; to leave him some more time to think about it. Morphine had its risks, especially for the former drug-addict he was.

And she had a syringe in her hand. Full of what he was sure was the opioid. The compression bandage was tied around her right arm; she was ready for the injection.

"Cuddy," he said once again, eyes clutched to the syringe in her hand. When at his worst, he would fill it up to its one-third. Here it was _full_. According to her morphology, she was not only ready for the injection; she was ready to kill.

He sat down beside her cautiously, making his gestures as soft as possible. One single abrupt move would scare her and push her over the edge she was already just about to fall from. He had no idea how he managed to remain that calm. All he wanted to do was snatching the drug from her before she committed the fatal mistake.

"Cuddy, what are you doing with my morphine?" he asked in a steady tone, not letting himself sound like he was worried or angry, almost convinced it was just a casual question.

It seemed to reassure her because a few seconds later she whispered, "I don't know."

She didn't make a move, but lowered her eyes to the syringe lying on her palm, barely held between her loose fingers. She seemed amazed, as if suddenly realizing what she had in her hand. Like morphine was a buried treasure and it had the power to make her happy for ever.

"Here," he murmured, softly laying his hand on the syringe but not grabbing it. "May I?" She didn't react so he softly took it away from her. She remained perfectly stoical. No reaction at all, barely a blink. She was probably too damaged tonight to realize what was happening indeed. He removed the compression bandage from her arm, realizing then how tightly she had laced it.

_'Cuddy, oh Cuddy, when will you finally recover?'_ he thought as he put the bottle of morphine and the bandage into the box before closing it, the syringe in the pocket of his pajama pants, ready to be thrown away into the first bin he would find.

"We need to go back to bed," he said as softly as he could. "I'll rebandage your finger and your foot and then we'll sleep."

She didn't seem to listen to him, lost in her crazy mind. Yet she nodded weakly when he uttered a calm "Okay?"

House stood up, already reaching out to carry Cuddy. He was sure his leg would make him regret it later, but he honestly didn't give a damn about his thigh. She let him wrap his arms around her back, as her arms circled his neck in a reflex, nuzzled his shoulder and firmly tied her legs around his waist. He held her up with a hand under her behind and his forearm tightly pressing her chest to his collarbone. After making sure they were steady, he limped toward the bedroom in the gloomy night, paying extreme attention to each one of his slow steps.

She hadn't tried to kill herself. Even though the dose of opioid she had picked was absolutely lethal, Cuddy was too strong to attempt suicide. And, most of all, she was not alone going through all this. This interlude was just a clumsy attempt to not feel the suffering anymore, to feel nothing at all.

"I want the pain to go away," she murmured when they entered the corridor, as if reading in his mind. "Why does it hurt so much, House?"

"I don't know." He had no idea what kind of pain she meant. Physical pain, he could explain. He could tell her about her delivery, he could tell her how the double trauma of losing Mary and him running away had caused this constant pain to settle down into her lower stomach. He could tell her how her body was adapting to the void in her tummy. But moral, psychological pain… he was running out of explanations.

"You know," she contradicted him. "You always know. You know everything."

He almost stumbled and sighed with relief when he realized he was still standing on his feet, Cuddy was still huddled between his arms.

"I feel like I'm crazy," she continued.

"You're not crazy, Cuddy."

He lay her down on the mattress, as slowly as he could. They stared at each other for a moment, eyes locked, him incapable of breaking contact with her insistent dim grey gaze.

"Do you love me?" she asked timidly.

"You know I do," he said with a sad half-smile before turning around and heading to the bathroom.

"Say it."

He froze, thankful that she couldn't see his face because he was sure he had a terrible pout printed over it. He tried to say it, tried to utter a simple 'I love you'. But words didn't come out. The problem wasn't that he didn't love her; he did. The sentence was just stuck somewhere in his mind and it refused to leave its hiding place. House saying 'I love you' wasn't something you could get by just asking for it.

"I can't say it to you. Not like that," he tried to explain. He heard no answer so he headed to the bathroom, got rid of the syringe and picked a roll of gauze. She was observing him so intensely while he was bandaging her wounds, he felt almost uncomfortable. Her eyes were piercing through him, looking for an answer he did not have.

"I want to die," she simply said in an emotionless voice as he finished. He tossed the roll of fabric onto the bedside table, jaw clutched and his hands shaking. These four words had an incredible effect on him. She had uttered it like it was absolutely normal. But how could she possibly say that? How could she possibly say that she wanted to give up, wanted to give him up?

He tried to hide and disguise the fact that he felt so hurt and angry at the same time and lay down beside her, covering the both of them with the same blanket and rolling onto his side, facing her lying on her back.

"I won't let you die," he promised. "Ever." He saw her eyes gleaming in the dark, peering at him. "I love you." He slid a hand under the covers to find hers. Their fingers met and laced together. "I love you Lisa Cuddy," he repeated, as if making sure she had understood it well. He loved her; she had to know it.

Her answer was to close her eyes to sleep, her hand tightly holding his.

* * *

><p>The first thing House felt when he woke up this morning was pain. Not even the sunlight shining down on his face, the sheet sticking to his sweaty skin, or even Cuddy's fingers caressing his biceps. Besides, he believed his leg woke him up, and not the other way around. He couldn't remember last time that pain had been intense enough to interrupt his slumber. He was expecting a very hard day.<p>

He grumbled, pushed the covers aside to have a better access to his thigh. His hand circled his limb, pressing onto the most sensitive parts, mentally evaluating the pain. He had seen worse, but it was still tough.

"House," Cuddy softly called out. He dared open his eyes to meet hers, focused on her face rather than on his leg. She seemed tired, her eyelids underlined with a purplish shade, but she looked definitely better than the days before. Seeing her lying beside him managed to ease a bit of the pain away. She was with him, she seemed fine, nothing to worry about.

"'Morning," he rasped before reaching out to grab an Ibuprofen bottle.

She answered with a shy smile and then stammered, "We, uh, need to talk."

He gulped down the pills, squeezed his eyes shut and sighed. She was probably going to talk about the incident of the night, and he didn't need to hear her apologizing or explaining herself right now – or even at all. Of course she was sorry. Of course she had had no clue what she had been doing. He knew all that, he might even understand. But if only she could leave him alone with his pain today!

"Not now."

She pouted disappointedly, but his closed eyelids didn't allow him to see that. She really needed to tell him what she had in mind before the idea just vanished away as quickly as it had threaded its way into her mind.

"Are you alright?" she worried, hearing him groaning in pain.

"Does it look like I'm alright?" he burst out. She pursed her lips.

He tried to control himself, but this question was too much. No, he wasn't alright. She could see that he wasn't, see him holding his thigh and breathing deeply to relax. Why was she even asking?

Because she cared. The thought crossed his mind and his thigh throbbed even more underneath his hand as he realized what an ass he was being to her again. He shouldn't have pushed her away and rejected her clumsy help once again.

"Sorry," he murmured, remorseful.

"Don't be." She reached for his leg, but he turned away before she had time to touch him.

"'Gonna make you breakfast," he mumbled, sitting up with his back turned to her. This single move made his leg scream in protest. Though he was momentarily unable to stand up, he had to. He had spotted his cane against the wall, which was not in reach from the bed.

Cuddy saw the cane, too. She wanted to go bring it to him, but it seemed like he was not in the mood for any help this morning. If he even refused a massage, his goal was to reach the cane by himself and she had to let him. Even if hearing his growls of pain tore her apart.

He eventually stood up, balancing his weight onto his left leg. He tried to take a step and miserably failed, his nerves feeling like they were on fire, withdrawing every hope for remaining standing. He gripped the footboard before he collapsed, jaw clenched so as not to cry out. Cuddy couldn't take it anymore and joined him sitting on the floor, cuddling up against his back. This way she couldn't see his face but she knew he would appreciate her presence near him as long as he could hide. She wrapped her arms around his belly, and a hand slipped under the hem of his tee-shirt, grazing his abs. Her touch felt good to him. She was stroking him, but at least she was focused on something other than this thigh that he hated so much. He didn't push her away and let her hug him.

"One to ten?" she asked, her doctor reflexes winning over her.

"Seven," he responded after a hesitation. "But more like six-seven than seven-eight."

She nodded, he felt her move against his shoulder. "Forget about breakfast," she said. She wasn't hungry anyway and she knew he was in too much pain to even consider eating, he needed to relax first. "I'll draw you a warm bath instead."

He slightly smiled when she added, "Do you want to take it with me?" This was her discreet way of demanding he accept her help without saying the word. And he loved it. He loved her discretion.

"Sure," he accepted, then, silence. He remembered her words, needing to think about something else. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

It took her by surprise, "Oh, uh…" she stuttered. "Well, I think… I think I'm ready to go home."

He sighed with relief. Finally, she had said the magic words he had longed for! Finally she was recovering and taking a step forward! He caught her hand on his tummy and squeezed it. "When do you want to go back to your place?"

"When you're alright," she honestly replied. He smiled and got up, as if the gesture was perfectly natural. He held out his hand and urged her on, "Come on. Let's go take that bath!"

She grinned. He helped her rise onto her right foot, grabbed his cane to go round the bed and handed her, her crutch.

* * *

><p><em>TBC...<em>


	19. Chapter 18

_-That awkward moment when you say to yourself you should update your story and realize you have nothing ready. Oops.  
><em>

_Anyway. :D I should really try to fix my immense procrastination. So here's chapter eighteen. Hope you'll enjoy it!  
>Thank you for the feedback you left last time. As usual, it was very appreciated!<br>Also, I would like to respond to a review I received for the French translation. Yes, things seem to get better in the plot, less tears and sadness and so on, but we're not near the end. I'm not even sure I have written half the story, so there's still a long way to go till the epilogue! (Hopefully I'll be able to finish it before 2013 :p)  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eighteen<strong>

* * *

><p>They had grabbed a bite for lunch, and at present they were settled in his car. House caught a glimpse of Cuddy twirling the hem of her tee-shirt in every way possible while she was fidgeting on the passenger seat, her gestures becoming more and more erratic as he was driving closer to her place.<p>

"Stressed?"

"Impatient," she replied with a smile, which he saw in the corner of his eye.

"Me too."

He really did feel impatient as well. He had missed Rachel, probably not as much as Cuddy, but he was looking forward to seeing her after these ten long days away. Things were returning back to normal, lulled in their half-normal routine. Though they would never live normally, not really. Living with House was already something far from common, there was no room for routine in their lives.

His phone rang. House kept both his hand on the wheel and asked, "Can you…?"

She feared it was a call from the hospital, feared they were going to take him away from her again. She pushed her apprehensions back in a corner of her mind and picked up the cell from the pocket of his jacket, since she would never let him use his phone while driving, whether she was scared of it or not.

"Wilson texted you," she said, glancing at the envelope flickering on the screen.

"What is he saying?"

She opened the message and read it out loud with a frown, "He is saying that you're a lucky bastard who has just got an appointment scheduled tomorrow at two p.m."

"Well that's great," he commented. Wilson was definitely a genius.

"What is it, House?"

"Appointment with your gyno," he replied, focusing on nothing but the road.

She opened her mouth in surprise, clenched it shut, and refused firmly, "No way."

"Cuddy, it is not even a question, this is standard procedure," he tried to convince her, stopping at a red light. "It's been a week since–"

"We are doctors," she cut him off, not wanting to hear _the word_ from his mouth. "If anything is going wrong, we will know it." He remained silent, and she knew she had hit the bull's eye. House would not miss one single detail, they both were aware of that fact. "And I am fine anyway."

"You're not. That's why I want you to go."

"House…" she sighed, hiding her face in her hands. "You know I hate going to the gyno."

"I do, too. I don't like the idea of another guy touching your lady parts. Your vagina is mine," he said, placing his hand on her thigh, an inch above her knee, before the light turned green. "Seriously, you need to go. If you've got sutures–"

"You have no idea if I've got sutures!" she spat. "You ran away right after…" Her voice trailed off. She took a deep breath to repress the sobs bubbling in her throat. "They had to sedate me after you left because I was being hysterical. It was so humiliating…"

"It happens. It's normal after something like that, you–"

"My own child died, the father ran away and I completely lost it in front of my employees, House! That is not normal! It was hell!" she yelled.

"Cuddy…" What could he say? That he was sorry? It wouldn't change anything. What was done, was done. He had left her dealing alone with their loss, tearing her in pieces and there wasn't anything he could do to fix what he'd done.

"I was alone," she said, her voice way more calm this time, barely a whisper.

She turned to the window to hide her tears from him. He kept on driving without a word, until he parked in her driveway, now free from Julia's car which was parked on the street. He stared into the distance for a moment, and made the first move by taking her hand.

"We will go to this appointment together," he promised. "You're not alone. Not anymore."

She quietly nodded, turned over to lay her cheek onto his shoulder. He let her compose herself, slipping a hand in her raven curls. She toyed with his fingers entangled with hers, nervously stroking his hand, and then she decided it was time to go, opening her door after kissing his lips. She rushed out of the car, grabbing her bag from the trunk. He followed her to the front door with a peaceful smile, searching his pockets for his keys but Julia opened the door before he had time to find them and let them in with a smile.

"Careful," she said. "Rachel's taking a nap. She was so excited to know you guys were coming home, it was sort of tough to get her to sleep."

Cuddy dropped her stuff at her feet and left her crutch against the wall, "I imagine." She let her gaze wander across the hallway. Her furniture, the way she had organized the room, the warm and welcoming ambiance she had tried to create; she had missed all that, missed her home. She turned to pull her sister into a hug. "Thank you so much for looking after Rachel," she gratefully whispered. "I owe you."

"No, it's normal. Sorry I didn't call you," she apologized, guilty she had left her sister alone in despair. She lowered her eyes to the floor, "What happened to your foot?"

She hesitated, casting a glance at House and looking for his approval and support, "Nothing serious. I uh… I fell. On the stairs." He nodded. "But it's okay, I – I'm doing okay."

The older Cuddy pulled away to kiss the younger on her cheek and House held out his hand to her, expecting a handshake, probably a kiss following as well. To his huge surprise, Julia hugged him. Cuddy smirked, slipping out of her coat with a subtle move of her shoulders, not astonished at all. Her sister had always been very affectionate, though she had never witnessed her embracing House. And he seemed pretty awkward.

It relieved her to know that Julia would support them, that she accepted House into their family. Yet she had every right to hate him, since he and his addictions had caused so much pain to her little sister. Yes, maybe she should have felt angry, or at least distrustful, but she felt none of that. After all, Lisa needed him, as much as he needed her, and she had no other choice but admire the complicated love they had for each other.

"Uh, th-thank you," he stammered, not really at ease before this sudden demonstration of affection. They were not really close, he realized. He liked her. Or at least, he thought she was nice. Sometimes they would talk to each other. But he didn't really consider her a friend.

Julia pulled away, "I went shopping this morning with Rach, right after you called to let me know you were coming back home," she said, pointing at House with her chin. "And no, I didn't forget to get you some meat," she said, to House this time.

He joined his hands in front of his chest and bent over slightly, "Namaste."

They heard running footsteps coming from the corridor. Cuddy turned to see her daughter throwing herself against her legs.

"Momma!"

"Honeeeyyy!" her mom exclaimed before lifting up the little girl to hold her pressed tightly against her chest. "I am sooooo happy to see you!"

House watched the whole scene with a smile, watched his woman grin and her eyes water with joy. He longed to join them, be part of the reunion, and wrap his large arms around the both of them, but with Julia beside him, he felt restrained. And she realized it.

"I should be going," she said, grabbing her coat from the closet and throwing it on her shoulders. "Just give me a call if you need me."

"Say goodbye to Auntie, honey?" Cuddy encouraged her kid, who waved at her. "Can you come back tomorrow at one thirty? If you're not busy, of course."

"Stay!" the toddler screamed, fearing her aunt would come back to replace her mother _again_. She nuzzled her mother's neck, as if holding her back. Cuddy's heart shattered in thousands of pieces, realizing how much she had hurt her child by withdrawing her presence.

"I won't go," she reassured her, caressing her back. "It's just for an hour. I need to go to the doctor."

"So you be back?" she asked, her lower lip trembling.

"Yes honey, I'll be back," Cuddy assured before kissing her forehead. Then, in a whisper, "I'm not going anywhere."

A few seconds passed by before Julia spoke up, "Sure, I'll be here." And then she left, waving at Rachel. "See you tomorrow!"

Once the door was closed, House laid his cane against the wall, next to Cuddy's, and drew closer to them. Wrapping his arms around Cuddy's shoulders, he huddled against Rachel, her tiny back pressed to his chest.

"Hows?" she called out. He nodded and placed a peck onto the crown of her head. Cuddy craned her neck to reach his lips. He gently kissed her, felt her smile against his mouth and she buried her nose in his neck. Then he lowered his head to nuzzle both their hair, smelling his own shampoo in Cuddy's, and this scent of vanilla in Rachel's. They remained still for a moment, eyes closed, simply enjoying. And he could swear he heard Cuddy sob slightly.

"House," she murmured after a while. "She fell asleep."

He pulled away to see. Rachel's head was lolling on her mother's shoulder, her tiny fists clenching Cuddy's t-shirt and her arms circling her neck. He stared at her face, her small slumbering pout and her long eyelashes partially hidden by a few locks of chestnut hair tumbling on her forehead.

"She did," he confirmed, a subtle smile drawing on his thin lips.

"Can you take me to the couch?" she asked, unsure if she could walk steadily but, most of all, not having the heart to put her daughter back in bed.

He got rid of his coat and tucked her waist in the crook of his arm. She used it as a support, laboriously limping to the living-room and he held her down onto the couch. Rachel shifted, snuggling closer to her mom and let out a small purr.

"Do you want a blanket?" he murmured. She nodded and he came back to her a minute later, covering her up to her chest with the piece of wool. She thanked him with a smile.

Then he left to move her bag to their bedroom, forcing himself not to cast one single glance at the door where they'd pasted the colorful candy-shaped letters M, A, R and Y when he passed it. As he entered their room, his heart skipped a beat. Julia had not slept in there, instead using the guest room, so everything was as they left it. A pile of books and a few magazines were tossed on the floor in front of his bedside table. His alarm clock was still out of order, a pair of jeans was laying on the armrest of the easy chair. The sheets had been changed and the bed was made neatly. He sighed uncomfortably at the reminder of Cuddy being forced to spend her days resting in bed; her laptop on the carpet, her robe hung to the coat-rack, her reading glasses nearby the lamp on the table, and her slippers near the door. The sight of a drawing made by Rachel for her mom brought a smile to his sealed lips. She had protected it under a glass and fixed it to the wall. He remembered participating, writing with a red crayon – since Rachel didn't know how to do it by herself – that they wished Cuddy to get better very soon.

He eventually went back to her, shutting the door behind him.

"She's gonna ask about Mary," she whispered once he had sat down on the divan, facing her.

"Don't think about it."

"How do you expect me to not think about it?" she sighed. He did not answer. She had every right to fear that moment. "I have no idea what to say."

A moment passed by before he said, "Do you think I have one single idea?"

"You always have ideas," she shrugged. And they both knew it was not wrong.

"We'll see when she wakes up."

She acquiesced, yet not reassured. He heard her sigh loudly as he sat there, thinking and thinking over. There had to be a way. There had to exist the perfect explanation, formulated with the perfect words. He just had to find it.

"I don't know if I can take care of her anymore," she said, her voice breaking down. She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she had a free hand to hide and cry freely.

"Of course you can. She's your daughter. You've been taking care of her for four years," he tried to reassure her. He could not let her have doubts about herself and her mothering skills, because yes, she had skills indeed.

She shook her head, "She is your daughter, too."

"Yeah," he nodded with a small smile. "You've done great during those four years."

"We've done great," she corrected him. He nodded once more, needing to hear from her that he hadn't screwed up with her Rachel – their Rachel. The smile on her lips quickly vanished away, turning back into a sad pout. "I abandoned her."

He wanted to shout. He wanted to shout at her that she had to stop with all the self-doubt, because she was a great mother, no matter what. She could not forget how badly she had desired a baby, how badly she had tried over and over again, until her dream came true. Twice. Almost twice… But instead, he just whispered, "You didn– Cuddy, just look at her. She's healthy, she's happy, she has a home. A family who loves her. You didn't screw up in any way. You saved her."

She lowered her glance to her baby in her arms, tears soaking her eyes. She blinked to clear her vision from this blur and admired her little girl's face. Rachel was the most beautiful thing that had ever happened to her, the one she was the most proud of. Her baby, her family, her _dream_.

She brushed a lock of hair away from her face and the toddler unconsciously leaned into her warm touch. She smiled widely.

And so did House.

A few moments later, he shifted his gaze to see that Cuddy had fallen asleep hugging her daughter. He rose to snuggle the both of them in the blanket, lingering to stare at them, and sat back on the divan, satisfied with the thought that she was now feeling safe enough.

* * *

><p><em>TBC...<em>


	20. Chapter 19

_Hi guys! I was supposed to update a few days ago, but ran out of time (yeah, Hugh was in Paris two days ago so I had to go stalk him. And I saw him! ...On TV. *cries*), and I apologize for the delay. I hope this chapter will be worth the wait. It also contains a reference to religion. If what I wrote offends anyone, I am sorry about that. (Yes, I am very careful about religion)  
><em>

_And, thank you very very very much for the lovely reviews you guys left! They were very very very much appreciated!_

* * *

><p><strong>Cha<strong>**pter Nineteen**

* * *

><p>When Cuddy woke up, she found her nose buried in the blanket, which was firmly wrapped around her frame. She sneezed and felt around in search of her daughter, her gestures confused from the lingering aftermath of deep slumber.<p>

"You're awake?" she heard House yelling from the kitchen. Craning her neck, she shot a glance behind her, seeing Rachel and him sitting at the table having an afternoon snack.

"Wha-what time is it?" she stammered, her voice raspy and doughy. Since she hadn't noticed her daughter getting up, she must have been fast asleep.

"Nearly five o'clock, you slept through the whole afternoon. Want some?" he asked, pointing at a slice of bread and chocolate spread. She winced and shook her head no, just the sight of chocolate made her want to run to the bathroom.

"Momma?" Rachel spoke up.

"Yes, honey?"

"Hows says you know where little sister is," she said before biting into her slice.

"Bastard," she hissed under her breath, casting him a terrible glare. Expecting to see him indifferent, she in fact saw him sorry, and it disgusted her even more. Of course he had told her this. He had no idea about how to explain the situation, and in spite of the complete trust she had for him, he had betrayed her again and left her with this burden. She turned around to hide her tears of anger and, lost in her mind running at a thousand miles a minute in desperation for an explanation, she didn't hear House saying, "I said we'd tell you when you finish your snack."

She felt a weight collapsing beside her on the couch. House sat there with Rachel on his lap, and his gaze pierced through Cuddy for a second. He reached out and wiped a tear off her cheek with his thumb. Rachel looked at her mother crying, worried.

"It's nothing honey," she quickly reassured her. "I'm just tired."

"But you just slept."

A tiny beginning of sad smile drew on her face, "Not enough I guess."

"First of all, Rachel," House spoke up. "Do you know where your grandpa is?"

With no hesitation, she raised her index finger. Cuddy followed the move and looked at this spot that her child was pointing at on the ceiling – well, the sky, obviously.

"Up there," House said as a confirmation. As an atheist father and a Jewish mother, House and Cuddy had decided to let their child choose her own beliefs, even if she was too young to understand all that and make a choice. The 'up there' thing must be from Arlene, he had no doubt. If the toddler had questions, obviously they would try to answer as objectively as they could, without directing her into one theory more than any other. And House had to acknowledge that religion, or at least the hypothesis of the existence of an afterlife, was comforting in some ways. He preferred to believe that Mary was still waiting for them somewhere rather than knowing she had barely existed.

"Mary is up there, too."

Cuddy looked up at him, all her relief expressed in her tearful eyes. He was taking care of their problem, indeed. She felt silly for being angry at him earlier. Perhaps she didn't trust him enough, she should have known by now she was not alone.

"Why?" Rachel asked.

"Well... There are angels up there, too. And..."

"Grandma said they take care of Grandpa," she interrupted him.

He nodded. "Well, uh, Mary... she's gone up there to take care of your grandpa. He was feeling a bit lonely."

Rachel opened her eyes wide, confused and amazed at the same time. Her little sister was an angel. Wow, but why?

"When she comin' back?"

House took a deep breath, briefly considering his phrasing, before uttering, "She's not." Softer than 'never', but basically the same idea. He did not want to withdraw from her every single ounce of hope for ever meeting her sister, though on the other hand, he could not promise her something impossible. She would be disappointed in the end. Mary was not coming back, and that was it.

"Why?" Rachel asked again, the astonishment painted on her face. "She doesn't like us?"

"She does! She does, but..." he then trailed off, running out of ideas.

"She wanted to go take care of Grandpa," Cuddy rescued him, blinking back her tears. "So we just let her go."

"Why did you let her go?"

"When you want to go to the park," House said, "we take you there, right?"

"Yeah," she acquiesced.

"See, that's the same." He added, "She wanted to go up there, so she went up there. Your little sister is an angel. Pretty cool, huh?"

"Wow," she whispered, almost intimidated. She raised her head to stare at the ceiling as if she could, maybe, see Mary flying around with tiny white wings behind her back. "I'll miss ya very much!" she exclaimed, and then turned to her parents. "Can I go play in my room?"

"Sure, you can," Cuddy agreed. The kid ran out of the room with excitement.

"She doesn't seem too upset," House observed.

"That's a good thing," Cuddy said before bursting into tears. "You did so great, House," she managed to utter through her sobs.

He wordlessly nodded, his gaze lost into the distance, which didn't go unnoticed. She was terrified. He seemed so small, crushed under his own words. He had managed to invent all this, he knew he had found the perfect explanation he had been looking for, but the reality was hitting him even harder. Mary was not an angel, there was no afterlife, and he would never see her again. She was gone for ever.

"House," she murmured. She took his hand in hers and after a brief moment, he reacted, his fingers lacing with Cuddy's. She curled up against him and he pressed his cheekbone on the top of her head. She let her tears escape freely and roll calmly down her cheeks for a few long minutes.

"How about we unpack your things?" he suggested after her crying had stopped, quickly dismissing his unease. She nodded, her curls tickling his chin. She broke free from the blanket and rose. They each grabbed an edge, folding the fabric. Seeing her looking around in search of her crutch, he fetched it from the hallway; the blanket tucked under his arm, and came back with her crutch. She smiled and limped beside him down the corridor, stopping in the doorway to Rachel's room, making sure everything was okay. Her little girl was quietly playing with cubes. She seemed barely affected, probably not even thinking about her little sister, and somehow Cuddy envied her. Her pure innocence prevented her from realizing the truth. She was not as damaged as her parents. When she is older she would find out, Cuddy was sure of it. But she would be done with her mourning. Hell, maybe she would not even remember!

Rachel spotted her mother staring at her and waved at her with a smile.

"You come play with me?"

"I'll be there in a minute," Cuddy promised. "I have to take care of some things with House. Get it ready for me, okay?" Playing with her daughter was something she had missed terribly. Rachel nodded joyfully, organizing her cubes.

When she entered her room, House was already arranging piles of clothes on their bed. She took heart and drew closer to him. She observed her clothes for a while, and sighed. She could not resist and unfolded the garments one by one, pairs of pants and incredibly large tops, nostalgia embracing her heart.

"Do you remember this one?" she asked with a smile, holding a blue tee-shirt in front of her. He immediately recognized the garment he had given her, amidst a lot of other clothes, but this one was a bit special.

* * *

><p><em>House is vaguely awoken by the mattress collapsing near him, definitely shaken out of his slumber hearing Cuddy snorting. He opens his eyes and sees her sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing nothing but a pair of white lace panties, her flawless back turned to him. Her head is tilting forward, and he can already guess she is hiding her face in her hands.<em>

_"What's going on?" he asks._

_She turns to him and her fingers covering her eyelids curl into a ball, her fists now pressed on her moist cheeks. He thinks she looks cute, but it is probably not a good moment to tell her. "My clothes."_

_"What's wrong with your clothes?"_

_"They don't fit," she complains, sobbing. "My skirts are too tight, it's like my ass is going to crack them open, and my boobs are sooo painful and sooo big, and they just about burst out of my bras..." She adds in a whisper, "I'm fat."_

_"'Not a big deal," he shrugs. Why are women so obsessed about their clothes anyway? That is something he will never understand. They want tons of pretty clothes, pretty tailoring, with pretty colours. He is totally satisfied with a simple shirt, even if it is not ironed. Why wasn't she? Yet, at the moment the words slip out of his mouth, he realizes what a mistake he has just made. When you're pregnant, everything is a big deal. Nothing is minimized._

_"Excuse me?" she bursts out, rising on her feet and whirling around to him, her face flushed with emotions. "I am fat and that's not a big deal?"_

_"You're not fat, you're pregnant."_

_"The point is I have nothing else to wear! I'm not gonna walk around naked in the hospital, am I?" He lets his gaze wander across her bare body, and she remembers she is half-naked, shifting uncomfortably, convinced he is staring at her imperfections._

_"Well... That wouldn't be so bad since you wouldn't even need to speak to your benefactors to have them signing you a check."_

_She clenches her jaw shut, too shocked to fight back immediately. As he sees this look in her watering eyes, he knows he truly hurt her this time._

_"Fuck you," she says in an emotionless tone, before yelling, "I am not a whore, House! What the fuck do you think I am?"_

_He shushes her; Rachel is still in the house. She sits back, crying freely and sobbing loudly. He crawls toward her and tries to lay his hand on her shoulder. She recoils from his touch._

_"If you want to touch, you must pay first," she spits. He pulls back._

_"I never said you were a whore."_

_"But you meant it."_

_"That's insane!" he protests. "How could I mean it? How could I even think it?"_

_She cries even harder, "I don't know."_

_"Come on," he soothes her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his cheek on her shoulder blade. This time, she lets him. "You're tired, that's all." She nods and blows her nose in the handkerchief he has just handed her. "I'll lend you some of my clothes, okay?"_

_"Can't wear them," she refuses._

_"Why not?"_

_"Everyone will notice they're your clothes."_

_He sighs, "You must have something else to wear." She shakes her head no. He rolls away and she turns around to see him leaning down to the floor, apparently looking for something tucked under the bed. He grabs a blue tee-shirt, a pair of black pants, which has a large elastic waistband covering the whole belly, and a white bra, matching by chance with her panties. She frowns as he holds it all out to her._

_"You were hiding clothes under our bed in order to get them out when I can't wear mine?" She asks, not very surprised though._

_"Exactly," he confirms before encouraging her, almost excited to see her in the clothing he chose. "Put them on."_

_She cheerfully complies, and stands up to slip the pants on, letting out a chuckle of victory when she pulls up the zipper with no resistance. He silently observes her, and now she feels flattered under his gaze._

_"Comfortable," she comments, craning her neck to cast a glance at her behind. "Not too tight."_

_"That sure looks nice," he says, his eyes clutched to her butt. She chuckles. "Try the top now." This time, he sounds really excited. She picks up the garment and holds it in front of her at arms-length, taking a better look at it. _

_"Oh," she lets out. A smile draws on her lips and she lowers her eyes, pleased but feeling bad refusing. "I can't wear that today, House."_

_He pretends to be hugely disappointed. In fact, he already knew she would not put it on. "Why? It seems fine to me."_

_"'Work in progress'," she quotes, referring to the words printed on the front of the tee-shirt. "They will all figure out I'm pregnant."_

_"And why is that a problem?"_

_She sighs, "We have already talked about it, House. No one gets to know until I need to be off."_

_"I know." He can't really describe how he feels about this. He understands her need for privacy, but he feels somehow rejected. Isn't she proud of carrying his child? Why wouldn't she tell everyone she is happy with him? Obviously, if he tells her about it, she will reply that it is her body, her job, her hospital, she gets to make the decision, and she will be right. But sometimes he wishes he could brag about it in front of everyone else. He doesn't want to make them jealous, he just needs to prove she is all his._

_"House?" she calls out, waving a hand in front of his eyes. He lets out an excessively heavy sigh. _

_"Fine," he gives up, turning to his side of the bed to, once more fish something under the bed._

_"How much stuff did you hide there?" she asks with a smirk._

_"I swear it's the last one," he promises, handing her a white blouse. "That's why you better like it."_

_He stands up to help her in the bra, even though she is doing perfectly fine on her own. He slides the straps along her arms, lasciviously brushing her skin and reaches around her to clip the bra, unwittingly pressing her over-sensitive chest against his bare torso. He goes so far as caressing her breasts to make sure the bra is correctly positioned, and she bites her lip, repressing a moan. He grabs her top and she slides her arms in the silken sleeves, he finishes by closing it, leaving the garment open enough to enhance her gorgeous breasts. She buttons it up, defying him. He replies with a smirk and admires her for a few seconds, before wrapping his arms around her frame, bringing her closer to him. She huddles in his embrace, burying her nose in his neck, lets out a content sigh and whispers in his ear, nibbling his earlobe, "Thank you." She pulls away, his hand remaining on her ass._

_"Come on, woman," he says, spanking her. "Go make us some money."_

_She pecks his lips before walking out of the room. "Don't be too late in the clinic. I'm expecting you there before ten a.m." He rolls his eyes, causing her to smile._

_"No high heels today," he has time to shout before she leaves. He hears her acquiescing with little conviction, followed by the sound of stilettos hitting the floor. He smirks, thinking she is even more stubborn than him, and sprawls back to bed, nuzzling her pillow._

* * *

><p><em>TBC...<br>_


	21. Chapter 20

_Hi guys! I am so, so sorry for the delay again. Life has been so hectic recently! I'll try to update again before the end of the year, but it is not really likely. Tomorrow is my last week of class coming up before the winter holidays but aaaahhh, so many things left to do *cries*. So I wish you a merry Christmas, and an awesome new year!  
>Thank you for the feedback you left last time (special thanks to Ellen for the 100th review ;)). They keep me writing when I'm that tired. I love them :3<em>

_This chapter contains spoilers about "Fall From Grace."  
><em>

_I hope you'll enjoy this chapter! I tried to be a bit more optimistic and not have Cuddy crying again, but... Seems like I can't help. Sorry! It's still a bit less drama though. In my opinion. *blushes*  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty<strong>

* * *

><p>She smiled, carefully folding the tee-shirt, and putting it down on the bed. Sometimes he would offer her 'normal' clothes instead of some kinky lingerie, and they were her favourites. Against all odds, House was very into gifts. Except that he was not the kind of man who would come home with a bouquet of red roses once a week – she did not want him to be that kind of man anyway; he was not boring. No, he would steal stuff from comatose patients or the nurses' counter and give it to her. As his boss, she should be mad, but how could she complain? Even if most of his presents were stolen, his sweet little kindnesses would brighten up her days.<p>

Even when he would toss thongs on her desk, which he had dared to do several times.

He reached into the bag, his hand met a very soft fabric, and she saw him hesitate. Arlene had taken away most of their baby stuff, but pajamas and layettes were still there.

"We'll just put that in the closet," she said, pointing at the clothes, and removing a huge weight from his shoulders. Mary's clothes were something they were not ready to deal with at the moment. They grabbed a pile each and limped toward the closet. Cuddy put her clothes on top of House's, "Do you mind?"

"Like I had a choice."

She smirked and so did he. Opening the door, she grabbed a tee-shirt and placed it on a coat hanger.

"What if I just drop them?"

"Then you will have to pick them up and iron them because obviously they will be a mess, and then you will hang them neatly. One by one."

"How cruel," he commented. "I'll just wait until you're finished then."

"Good boy," she said, kissing his cheek chastely. As she was done a few minutes later, she moved her bag to leave it partially hidden beside the massive furniture. Then she made her way to the door, grabbing her crutch. "I'm gonna go play with Rachel."

"And I'm gonna take a nap," he responded, pulling the curtains to close them and submerging the two of them into darkness. She felt her throat tighten, remembering how she had needed a light on while sleeping trying to deal with the death of their child. He threaded his way under the covers. She drew closer to him and sat on the edge of the bed, watching him pat the pillow.

"I'll wake you up when dinner's ready," she told him. He rolled his eyes and she cut off his forthcoming protests, "You need to sleep. I'll cook, don't bother."

"God, woman! What did I do to deserve being poisoned?"

She gently hit his shoulder, "Shut up! I'm not that bad of a cook!"

He laughed, and hearing him she laughed as well. It seemed like their bad memories were far away from them at present. Her eyes caught his and he pulled at her sleeve. She willingly bent over him and pressed her lips on his. They kissed tenderly. Deepening the kiss, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, his hand caressing her hair.

"What would you like for dinner tonight?" she whispered once she had pulled away.

"Momma!" they heard from the bedroom next door.

"Sounds like the kid's getting impatient," he said. "Go. I'll eat anything." She rose and he added with a wink, "As long as it's not spinach, of course."

She smiled and left him alone, silently closing the door behind her.

* * *

><p>Sleep would not come tonight. Cuddy knew it as she was not even able to keep her eyes closed for a minute without feeling a wave of anxiety surging through her. House was fast asleep, lying on his flank with his back turned to her. She reached out, her fingertips wandering along his spine through his tee-shirt. No reaction at all. She let her hand fall back on the mattress with a sigh. She was well aware it was silly to think it, but she felt rejected. He hadn't had dinner, since she hadn't been able to awake him back then. She had put Rachel in bed for the night, slipped on one of his tee-shirts and joined him. Since late afternoon, he had been sleeping. She rolled on her side and cuddled up against his frame, wrapping her arm around his waist. She tried to huddle against him as much as she could, but the rough texture of the pair of jeans he was wearing was anything but comfortable. Closing her eyes, she focused on his rhythmic breathing and slight snores, convinced it would reassure her and lull her into sleep, but it didn't help. She gulped, and realized she was more stressed than she thought. Of course, she was apprehensive about her appointment with Dr. Westhall, but that would not normally deprive her of slumber. Usually, she could manage to lock her stress behind doors. But that night, the doors were not resistant enough. She glanced at the clock, two a.m. She had been stewing over the appointment for four never-ending hours, and finally just gave up on the idea of sleeping tonight.<p>

She hated this room. She had spent days and days in this bed, forced to rest in order to prevent a miscarriage, or premature labor, which, as a work-alcoholic and control freak, she had hated. She still did. It should have ended perfectly. She should have given birth. What could have possibly gone wrong?

Repressing a sob, she slipped out of the bed and tiptoed into the corridor. She stopped in front of Mary's room, her gaze lingering on the candy-shaped letters. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door very carefully, as if the doorknob was aflame and burning her palm, and entered the room.

She took a step and stopped, struck by the quiet of the room. Even though by entering the room she was plunged into darkness, she could discern the shapes of the furniture, which she and House had chosen with great care. The cradle that Cuddy had used for Rachel was settled in a corner of the room opposite a changing table, waiting for Mary, who would never come. Nearby a toy box was filled with plush toys, including the white teddy bear that House had given her in the hospital, confirming that Arlene had dropped by while she had been absent. In the center of the room, a green woollen rug matching the painting on the wall was covering the wooden floor.

It should have been perfect.

"I'm sorry," she whispered into the distance. Blinking to clear the blur off of her vision, she realized she was crying. Carefully, as if any move could shatter this fragile universe, she walked to the empty cradle, and stared at it for a while. She could not fathom why there was no baby tucked in the tiny sheets. Pursing her lips to keep her tears at bay, she switched on the mobile, the toys hung to it clinging together and letting out a melodious sound. Birds of light appeared on the ceiling, along with a dulcet song. After a few seconds of contemplation, she lay down on the carpet, resting on her back with her hands over her womb.

She had no idea how much time had passed when House pushed the door open and found her lying on the floor, silently crying her heart out. He lay next to her, both of them staring at the doves flying around on the ceiling, for what seemed to last an eternity.

"Why can't we be happy?" she asked all of the sudden. He slightly shook his head in ignorance, scared to admit he had no answer, but unable to see if she had seen his movement.

"I don't know," he replied sincerely, not even trying to contradict her. They were miserable, that was a fact. He peered at her for a moment, but her eyes would not leave the ceiling.

"Maybe she's up there. With the birds."

He brought a hand to her face, his thumb brushed her cheek, causing her to shift lightly and turn to him. "Stop crying," he whispered, wiping a tear off her moist cheek.

"I'd love to..." she was barely capable of finishing her sentence, her voice trailing off. He rolled onto his side and tenderly caressed her hair.

"We should go back to bed."

Cuddy sighed, "I want to stay here… with Mary."

"You're not gonna sleep on the rug," he objected.

"I can't sleep anyway."

He rose and held out his hand, leaving her no choice. She took it and stood, but did not go any further. He cast her an interrogating look.

"I can't leave," she said in a whisper barely audible. "I can't leave her."

"We need to, Cuddy." She didn't even notice he had spoken in the first-person plural. They both had to say farewell, yet she did not seem to realize she was not going through it alone.

"I know."

She let her gaze trail across the silent room, as if trying to imprint it into her memory before it disappeared.

House took a step with her hand in his, gently pulling at her arm. She followed him out, and he closed the door, whispering to her to come with him. Once they had reached their room, he let go of her fingers in order to get undressed and slip on pajama pants. He joined her sitting on the bed, his back resting against the headboard and his legs stretched out in front of him. Almost shyly, she huddled against him, but in spite of her effort to relax and think about something else, the situation was still uneasy. He grabbed her under her knees, bringing her legs to rest sideways across his. Then he drew the blanket over them as she nestled against his torso. He wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders and murmured, "Close your eyes. I'm here."

She did as she was told, burying her face in his neck. A few minutes passed by in a total silence until he felt that the tension in her muscles had vanished. He gently rubbed her upper arm, and rocked her like a child. She docilely let him. His need of affection was blatant, in the way he was embracing her, his arms linking around her as if she was all he had left. He pecked her temple, prodding her into talking to him.

"Can you switch on the light?" she asked quietly.

He did so. She blinked to accustom her eyes to the soft light. "I'm sick of crying over anything," she started. "I want to be strong."

"You've always been strong. Stronger than anyone I know."

She sighed.

"You never let go of anything. You never back down. You always give the best of yourself. But sometimes you just can't."

"And that's the problem." Her hand slid up from his stomach to his chest, toying with his small heap of greying hair.

"No, the problem is you're a perfectionist. You're not capable of admitting you can't reach perfection sometimes."

She let out another sigh, "I'm weak."

Then he felt a fresh tear in the crook of his neck, where she had pressed her face. He hugged her tighter, "It's alright, Cuddy. You have every right to be weak about this."

"You deserve so much better from me," she sobbed, barely listening to him. "And Rachel does too."

"Cuddy, look at me."

She obeyed and raised her head, but did not look him in the eye. His thumb under her chin gently drew her face closer to his, allowing their gazes to meet. "You'll be strong for Rachel," he said with conviction. "You can do it, Cuddy."

She nodded, not fully believing him. It seemed so hard to remain courageous in front of her daughter when everything around her was breaking down.

"Promise me," he demanded.

"I promise," she responded to his slight smile, craning her neck to place a kiss on his lips. "I want you to be proud of me."

He kissed her one more time before sinking down flat onto the mattress. Cuddy huddled a bit more in his arms. Then, feeling more confident, she reached out to turn off the light.

"Talk to me," she grumbled after a few minutes, sleep already winning over her.

"Well... I'll be taking Rachel to school tomorrow."

She nodded. A brief silence followed.

"Do you want to move?"

She immediately lifted her head, confused. "What? You mean, really?"

He nodded, "We have a lot of memories here, especially you. Since you're not comfortable at home anymore, I think it would be better to change the setting."

"It's not that I'm not comfortable," she protested. "It's just that I..."

She didn't really have an argument. She honestly could not say she enjoyed living here any longer. Every time she would step into a room, she was overwhelmed with strong memories, as if the house was saturated with bitterness and attempting to spit it out. With a resigned sigh, she dropped her head to his chest.

"You win. But it won't be very convenient for Rachel. I mean, she has her school, her friends, her habits, and..."

"We don't need to move away from this school district. Maybe we'll manage to get closer to her school."

Cuddy pretended to think about it for a moment, but her decision was already made. "Okay. We'll do that." She kissed his lips, sealing their agreement, and snuggled closer to him, her head nestled in his neck and one of her legs entangled with his, his arms firmly draped around her frame.

"You know we have my apartment while we search for a new place."

She shook her head, "No, that's definitely not convenient for Rachel. She needs her own room. Furthermore, we…" she cut herself off.

"We?"

"Nothing."

"Oh come on!"

She sighed. His curiosity was peaked. With House, when she started a sentence, she had to end it.

"You can tell me anything," he insisted. She considered it. He would mock her sometimes, but not in such a serious moment. Being afraid of his judgment just proved how much confidence she had lost.

"Your apartment is not really set up for living as a family, House. It's more for our sweet escapes..."

He frowned, "That's what you were afraid of telling me?"

"I sound like a lousy mom, don't I?" she asked. "I'd rather let my daughter live in a place I dislike rather than in your apartment because I think of it as just for us."

"You are certainly not a lousy mom," he reassured her. "Don't even think that. Rachel doesn't mind living here, right? Why should it bother her to live here a little longer?"

She looked up at him, and smiled, "You're right."

"I'm always right!"

"Watch out," she warned him. "Don't get too cocky."

He laughed. The movement of his chest rocked her for a few seconds, and surprisingly, brought her even more comfort than his words did. Slowly but surely, she sailed into slumber.

* * *

><p><em>"You may want to see this," he says as he pushes open her office door, making her jump. With the blinds closed, she did not see him coming. He hands her a few papers. It doesn't take her more than three seconds to notice Dominika's name and stop reading.<em>

_"What the hell is this?"_

_"Come on, just read it!" he insists._

_"I'm busy. House, what is this?"_

_"Oh, well, nothing. I'm just divorced," he says, leaving her speechless._

_"Divorced," she repeats, completely astonished._

_"Yeah. She got her green card, so we got divorced," he shrugs. _

_She stares at him with complete surprise in her eyes._

_"Wait, you do remember I was married, right?" he adds._

_"Yes, I do remember," she sighs. He takes a seat in front of her desk, stretching out his legs on the table. Her palm hitting his calves forces him to remove them. "You could have told me you were getting divorced."_

_He shrugs once again, "That's none of your business." He sees her clenching her jaw. "Seriously, why would you care about my divorce?"_

_"Because it is my business since you married the bitch to get back at me!" she yells, losing her temper._

_"Well I guess it worked since you were on my doorway the morning after."_

_"Please, just shut up and leave," she cuts him off coldly. "I really don't have time to deal with your bullshit."_

_He stares at her lowering her gaze to her laptop, pretending to focus on her work to hide the tears rushing up to her eyes._

_"I'll see you tonight then." He stands up and walks out of the office. She waits and once she is sure he is away, she throws her fist up in the air with a victorious smile, a bit spoiled by her tears._

_While having dinner, he acts like nothing actually happened, but Cuddy can see something is worrying him. She asks him about it while they wash the dishes, and he just deflects._

_Once they are in bed, she fondles him with all her heart, her rancour already forgotten. He responds to her embrace, but seems focused on something else. She insists, her body dancing lasciviously on his, her mouth devouring his with teasing kisses, but there is no passion. She is just about to give up and deal with her frustration when he suddenly flips them over, pinning her onto the mattress with her arms above her head, his hands encircling her frail wrists firmly._

_"House," she lets out in a breath, caught off guard. He locks eyes with her, his deep gaze never letting go of hers._

_"Marry me."_

_She can't help but chuckle nervously, "What? Are you serious?"_

_He breaks eye-contact and collapses by her side, his back turned to her._

_"Goodnight," he grumbles._

_Realizing she totally screwed up, she rolls onto her side and snuggles against his back._

_"Hey. I'm sorry. You just asked that out of the blue..." No reaction. "And I don't want to marry you."_

_He turns around, now face to face with Cuddy, intrigued. "Why? Your mother would definitely be pleased."_

_"See, that's why! You don't want to marry me because you love me; you want to marry me because it's convenient."_

_He peers at her, as if she's a puzzle. "I don't want to marry you because it's convenient! What do you think I got divorced for? If I stayed married to Dominika for the rest of my life I wouldn't have to pay the damn alimony!"_

_Her eyes mist up with tears. Wanting to comfort her, he caresses her cheek and slips his fingers in her hair. All of the sudden, she bursts out, "I couldn't take it anymore, House! You were fucking all those whores, so when you decided to invite me to your wedding with that... that... that slut, I..."_

_He embraces her tightly as she clings to him. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." he whispers, laying soft kisses onto the crown of her head. "I never meant to hurt you, I..." He sighs. He knows he needs to open up to her if he wants to get rid of this misunderstanding between them forever. "I didn't do it to get back at you. I wasn't feeling angry at all, I was so lost when you broke up with me that I just needed somebody to be with me."_

_She cries even harder, remembering what led to all this. Her breaking up with him, their difficulties trying to get over each other, but in the end, never admitting it because they were simply drawn to each other. There was no one else, for the either of them._

_"But you barely knew her," she says._

_"She gave incredible massages. I couldn't let so skilled a masseuse get thrown out of American soil." He manages to tear a chuckle out of her mouth, but once the laughter has passed, he feels her tears soaking his shoulder again. "Hey. Come on," he soothes her in a whisper. "It's over. It's all over." She nods and holds him tighter, as if trying to fathom he is with her. "You still won't marry me?" he asks after a peaceful silence._

_"No," she refuses with a giggle. "It doesn't sound like us. We're not conventional." He arches his eyebrows, not convinced. "A marriage is basically belonging to someone. We don't need to get married and wear a ring to know it, do we?"_

_"I think I get your point," he says, pecking her nose._

_She purrs, cuddling up in his embrace, "You're mine."_

_His grip around her shoulders turns possessive, tightly pressing her body to his. She lifts her gaze and their eyes meet in the half-light, full of love, passion, devotion. They remain voiceless for a moment, clearly captivated by each other. No, they don't need to get married. The diagnostician's hand caresses her ribs, from her breast to her swollen belly and lingers there, its roundness cupped in his palm. Her hand joins his, allowing their fingers to intertwine. She lets out a contented sigh as his lips swoop down on hers. He gently flips her on her back and, her body clutched to his, he makes love to her._

_After she has fallen asleep in the crook of his arm, he gets lost in his thoughts. Most of the marriages of people close to him didn't turn out that well. His own parents. Taub and Rachel. Chase and Cameron. Wilson and his countless wives. He does not want to end like them. He looks down at Cuddy and thinks that he loves her too much for her to be his wife._

* * *

><p><em>TBC...<br>_


	22. Chapter 21

_Hi there! I am so, so sorry I kept you waiting again for nearly one month, but my timing happens to really suck. Since I thought I couldn't leave you without an update because you guys are so awesome and supportive, I'm publishing this, which has not been corrected yet. Sorry for the mistakes you will find, (Yep, I'm still studying English at school to get 'gooder' at it) I hope you will enjoy the chapter anyway. I will replace the right one as soon as I receive it._

_(Oh, and... Happy new year! :3)_

* * *

><p><em>425/12 : Many many many thanks to IHeartHouseCuddy for beta-reading :D  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-One<strong>

* * *

><p>"Turn that off," Cuddy grumbled as the clock had been ringing for a full minute. House let out a throaty growl, which sounded like a tired protest. He held out his arm to do as he was told, his hand hitting the table several times before finding the alarm clock. Then he just snuggled closer to her. They had found themselves in the almost same position as when they had fallen asleep, their arms wrapped desperately, though a bit less tightly, around each other. Her calm breathing was tickling his chest, where she had pressed her face. He did not feel like leaving their peace harbour at all.<p>

He did not recall waking up so close to her before. Most of the time, even though they would settle under the sheets hugging each other, they would shift during the night and end up on their own side of the bed, yet not leaving each other aside completely. Night had always been a tough moment for House, when his old demons would sometimes come back to torture him, either in nightmares or insomnias. He always hugged her before sleep, even when it would only mean letting her rest her head on his arm. As long as there was a physical contact, he was satisfied.

"Get up, House," she said. "Rachel is gonna be late."

He sighed once more, pecked her lips before crawling to the edge of the bed and sitting up. He popped open a bottle of ibuprofen before even standing up. Cuddy opened an eye to see how many pills he took. Three. She knew his pain was at its worst in the morning, but usually he would take two. Seldom three. Only when he had had a bad night. He swallowed them dry and, after rubbing his thigh with the heel of his hand, stood on his feet, headed to the bathroom before limping to Rachel's room a few minutes later. Cuddy curled up into a ball, disorientated by the sudden lack of warmth in her bed. When she opened her eyes after what seemed to last a second, Rachel was staring at her, bent over the bed. She smiled, "Hi, honey. Are you going to school yet?"

The kid nodded while House entered the room, his hands tucked in the pockets of his coat and his cane hanged at his arm. Cuddy sat up, rubbing her eyes, and then noticed that her daughter was curiously peering at her chest.

"What's that?" the toddler asked, pointing out at the two dark, round spots on her tee-shirt. Her mother lowered her head to see.

"Sweat," she lied. "I guess I got a little bit too hot this night."

"Alright, we don't want to be late," House interrupted them. Rachel kissed her mother on her cheek before leaving the room. He bent over to kiss Cuddy's lips.

"I'm taking your car," he said. She just nodded, incapable of uttering anything. She lowered her gaze, trying her best to not cry. He lied his hand on her shoulder and gently rubbed it. She leaned into his touch, her hand joined his. He squeezed it. "Hey, it's okay. I won't be long."

She nodded again before he kissed her forehead and got out of their room. She remained sitting there for a moment, hearing House telling Rachel about picking her up for lunchtime, until the sound of the front door closing followed. Taking off her top, she touched one of her moist nipples with her fingertips, managing to let a drop of breast milk roll from her breast to her stomach. She restrained her tears from streaming down her cheeks, remembering she had promised to be strong. Instead, she just collapsed on the mattress, pretending none of this had happened, and patiently waited for House to come back home.

* * *

><p>"Looks like we're just in time," House said while parking the black Lexus a few feet away from Rachel's school. He got out of the car and opened the back door, helping the kid out of the baby car seat. He carefully propped her down onto the ground, and slammed the door. She grabbed his hand and let him lead her to the entrance of the pre-school, among other parents and their children.<p>

"You have big hands," she observed, seeing his palm as large as her whole hand.

"And yours are tiny", he said with a smile. "Someday you'll have big hands, too."

"Like yours?"

"No, like your mom's. Have you already seen her hands very, very closely?" he asked. She shook her head no. "She has thin and delicate hands. Like a fairy."

He could tell a lot about Cuddy's hands. How slender they were. How light and possessive at the same time her touch on him felt. How her hands would frame his face when they kissed, as if holding him back. How her nails would scratch his back when he brought her to climax. How she would toy with her fingers when she was nervous. How her hand would squeeze his when he was in pain. How he loved to see their fingers perfectly laced together, how he loved to feel her warm palm in his, how he loved when her thumb would tickle and rub his. How many hours he could spend just looking at them.

"A fairy?"

"Yeah. Or a princess. Do you like better fairies or princesses?"

"I like pirates, you bloody scallywag!" she answered.

He chuckled, "Okay, your mom has pirates hands."

"Can I see yours very, very closely?"

They stopped walking. He let go of her hand to show her his. She grabbed it and looked at it with a frown in an exaggerated pout of scientist.

"Why are they so rough?" she asked.

"Because I'm an old pirate. I have a wooden leg, like Brown Beard."

"You're not old, Hows," she protested.

"I am. I could be your grandpa!"

"That's cool!" she exclaimed.

"Why?"

"It's cool having a dad and a grandpa at the same time."

He smiled and they resumed walking. Once they had arrived in front of the main door, she held out her arms to him. House lifted Rachel to allow her to kiss him goodbye on the cheek.

"Hows?" she said then.

"Yeah?"

"Will you go to up there, too?"

He felt his throat tighten at the sight of her sad pout. "No. I'm staying with you," he promised. She threw her arms around his neck. He embraced his kid until the bell tolled and she had to go to class. He watched her run across the playground so she wouldn't be late, thinking she was as studious as her mother. He was just about to leave when he saw her teacher aiming towards him – _what was her name again? _He considered fleeing but it was way too late, she had already spotted him.

"Dr House," she greeted him, holding out her hand.

He shook it, "Hi."

"I'm sincerely sorry for your loss," she continued with a sad, compassionate smile.

His whole body tensed in shock. If he hadn't let go of her hand, he would have certainly broken her knuckles. How did she know? Oh well. Probably from Julia. Women could be so talkative sometimes. Hopefully his sister-in-law hadn't told her everything in details.

And then, awkwardness followed. What was he supposed to say? 'Me, too'? 'Thank you'? 'I appreciate'? 'I'm doing fine'? He opted for the second option, even though he would have loved to tell her it was none of her business, but Cuddy had threatened to cut off his balls if he ever acted harsh with Rachel's teachers.

"Thank you," was all he could utter.

"If there's anything I can do..."

"We're fine."

Silence was complete until she said, "Well, I should be off... See you soon!"

He just nodded before limping away.

Once back home, House entered the bedroom without a stop in the hallway, finding Cuddy curled up on the bed, her back turned to him. Her dark hair was spilled on the pillow, her chest lifting up along with her breathing. He had missed her. He quickly kicked off his sneakers and threw himself onto the mattress. She yelped in surprise.

"Oh, my God! Was it an earthquake or did you just come back home?"

"Did I wake you up? I'm so sorry!" he said, though meaning none of it, and he knew that she knew it. His body spooned hers as he wrapped an arm around her bare waist and lied a few kisses in her neck.

She purred, managed to roll onto her back. Her face was now a very few inches away from his. "No, I was waiting for you."

"And... what were you waiting me for?" he asked, looking down appreciatively at her bare, swollen chest.

She lightly punched his shoulder, "You perv." They smiled, and just looked into each other's eyes for a while.

"Rachel arrived at school on time," he said, his thumb brushing a lock of hair off her face. "Nothing to worry about."

She nodded. He leaned down to kiss her lips. In a smooth motion, his hand slid from her cheek to her shoulder, wandering along her neck and collarbone. His left hand entangled in her hair. His tongue parted her lips and met hers. He kissed her with softness, and tenderness. She clung to him, her arms around his large shoulders. There was no fire in their embrace, it was simply a demonstration of strong love and a need of affection.

She found him abnormally sweet. She knew she should rather enjoy it, but she could not help feeling worried. He pulled away, pecking the corner of her mouth, letting them catch their breath.

"Are you okay?" she whispered.

"Sure."

He swooped down on her mouth again, capturing her lips between his in an infinite delicacy, as if he feared to split them. His hand cupped her face, his thumb caressing her cheekbone.

"House," she said, interrupting the kiss. She locked eyes with him. He barely held up her glance. With a sad pout, she subtly caressed his cheek, then her finger slowly redrew the thin line of his lips. Her hand slithered down to his neck, and that's how she realized he still had his woolen coat on. "Well I think you're overdressed."

He managed to smile. She sat up, he followed her move and let her remove the garment off of him. All of a sudden, he moved to sit right in front of her, his legs encircling her. Holding her tight, he buried his face in between her warm breasts. Surprised, she gasped. He did not say a word and just huddled closer to her. Her heart was beating so fast, so close to his ear. The rhythm of her breathing was caressing his face. He could not have gotten more comfort from her.

"House, what happened?" she asked. He did not respond. She gave up on getting an answer and wrapped her arms around him, stroking his scalp. He remained immobile for a while, eyes closed. His hand then wandered across her left breast as he kissed its side. She whimpered in discomfort, though he kept on caressing it gently.

"Don't, don't..." she let out in a breath.

He looked up at her, made sure his gaze met hers before uttering a soft, "You're gonna be okay."

She dropped her head, tears soaking her eyes. He pressed his temple to her sternum, lied an other kiss on her so soft skin. Her grip on his skull slightly tightened. Keeping her promise of being strong, she anchored herself at him so she wouldn't collapse. He insidiously kissed his way to her bud, and gently caught it between his lips. As expected, he tasted a few droplets of her breast milk before it trickled down on his chin. She convulsively closed her eyes. It felt odd, it felt uneasy, but somehow he managed to warm her heart. He wasn't feeding at her breast really, he was just sucking on her nipple. He had done this before, of course, but this time it was nothing sexual. It was purely natural, just an innocent, comforting hug. To the both of them.

A few minutes later, he let go of her tit, gently licked the residual of milk off her skin and nuzzled her sternum. Even though his cuddling made her feel better, overwhelmed with all his love, she was still concerned about him. He would never embrace her that way if something wasn't going wrong.

She leaned over to kiss the crown of his head, which was still cradled in her stroking hands, and lied her cheekbone onto his scalp.

"Rachel's teacher," he started then, knowing what she was expecting from him. "She told me something like 'I'm sorry for your loss'." After a silence, he added, "I fucking hate that."

House could not exactly tell what disturbed him the most. He wasn't surprised that the teacher knew, after all. Everyone on this damn planet could know, he didn't give a shit about it. He just didn't want to be reminded of 'his loss'. It was painful. It tore him apart. Each and every day. Sometimes, the wisest thing to do, is not to offer compassionate words, but to say absolutely nothing.

Most of all, it was about Cuddy. He refused to let anyone know what had happened to her. He wanted to keep her safe from the world. He wanted to protect her. He wanted to keep it as a secret only between the two of them.

"Me, too," she answered, a sob in her voice.

* * *

><p><em>TBC... Some smutty action coming up next time. Stay tuned ! ;)<em>


	23. Chapter 22

_Hi everyone! Here is the smutty action I promised you. *wink* I hope you'll enjoy it, it's kinda... Special, compared to what I have written before in this story._

_Since the shutdown of Megauplaod makes me freak out like crazy (I mean, seriously, what are we gonna do? What are we gonna do? How the hell am I supposed to watch TV shows now, huh? This is the end of the world, folks! We're all going to diiiiiiie! December the 12th is coming already!), my paranoid self imagines that FF might follow as well. Soon. Probably. So, just in case, I added my LiveJournal as my homepage on my profile. If this story disappears from here, you'll find it on LJ - once I have learned to use that website. (See? I wasn't kidding when I said I was freaking out. LOL)_

_This chapter has not been corrected either yet, but if you spot some mistake somewhere, please feel free to let me know. (Really, I'm ninety-nine percent sure I mixed preterit and present perfect somewhere. I always do. *sheds a tear*)_

_If you wish some soundtrack for the following chapter, Flames by VAST should sound good._

_Thank you again for the reviews you left last time. It's always great to wake up to an awesome feedback! (Yeah, jet lag is handy, for once.)_

_Anyway, I think that's all. (OMG, House is coming back tomorrow! OMG! Okay, okay, sorry, I'll just let you read now. (: )_

* * *

><p><em>425/12 : The link to my LJ won't appear on my profile, so... steponecomplete dot livejournal dot com.  
>Many thanks to IHeartHouseCuddy for correcting this chapter!<br>_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Two<strong>_  
><em>

* * *

><p><em>Cuddy sighs as the arrow reaches twelve before ticking towards one and arriving five seconds later. She has been staring at her clock for a full minute, and for the next ones she is going to spend waiting for House, she will probably decide to keep her mind busy with something else.<em>

_Working on a case, he has not come home in three days. She managed to meet him in the hospital from time to time, but they barely had ten minutes together since he has started his diagnosis. When he had to take a shower and get changed, he went to his apartment, which is closer to the hospital than her place is._

_She watches the hands of the clock indicating her it is twelve minutes past one and twenty seconds. Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Twenty-three. 'God, how do seconds go by so slowly?' she thinks to herself._

_Her phone rings – actually it barely has time to because she picks it up from the bedside table as soon as the screen lights up in the corner of her eyes._

_"Dr Lisa Cuddy speaking," she greets._

_"Hi. This is Wilson," the oncologist answers in a slightly panicky voice. He doesn't apologize for awaking her, he already knew she wasn't sleeping. Although he could have said sorry for not being House; Cuddy feels her throat tighten, not hearing the voice of the man she wants. "He lost his patient," he continues. "Apparently a wrong diagnosis..."_

_She sighs, "Thanks for letting me know. I'll ring you back when he's home."_

_"That's not it. I followed him into a bar but before he could order a drink, he received a phone call and he rushed out right after that. I've no idea where he has gone. I'm so sorry Lisa, I should have done something..." he apologizes._

_"It's okay Wilson," she cuts him off gently. "Thank you again for calling."_

_"You- you shouldn't have to deal with him now," he stammers, obviously feeling guilty for not being able to catch up with House. "You're pregnant, and..."_

_"James," she interrupts him again in her bossy tone. "I appreciate your concern, but I am alright. As you said I'm pregnant, not ill. I am perfectly capable of handling House."_

_"Fine," he gives up. He knows she is too stubborn to accept his help but just in case, he adds, "Call me if you need me."_

_"I will," she promises. Before he hangs up, words blurt out of her mouth. "Wilson, wait. You said he got a phone call. What was it about?"_

_"I don't know, I couldn't figure it out since he didn't say a single word. He just put down the phone and left. I'm sorry," he apologizes once again._

_"Thank you Wilson."_

_Once the conversation is over, she immediately dials House's number, but reaches his voicemail. Burying her face in her hands, she tries her best to breathe deeply. What could be this phone call about? Where is he now?_

_The sound of her entry door opening makes her jump to her feet. Finally, he is home. A minute later, he appears on the doorway, on bare feet. She has to restrain herself to not throw herself in his arms, knowing it would just make him uncomfortable. When he looks at her, the veil of pain, desperation and need covering his cerulean eyes strikes her. He has never seemed so damaged after the loss of a patient. Something else must have happened._

_She doesn't dare make a single move, utters a simple, "House."_

_He takes a step towards her, dropping his leather jacket and cane to the floor. He breaks eye-contact with her, pulls at the belt of her robe. The garment slides open, revealing her bare body to __him. She remains perfectly immobile._

_"Nice," he comments, observing her curves with desire. Then he pushes her down onto the bed, gently but still firmly. Lying on top of her, completely towering her, he pins her wrists above her head, circling them with one hand. He uses the other one to knead roughly her bust, pinching her nipples. She lets out a small moan. Their eyes meet._

_He needs to take control over something. Cuddy knows that. And she is ready to submit herself to him for tonight. Even if it shatters her heart to see him so fragile, she can't deny that him dominating her causes a lustful warmth to spread in her lower-stomach._

_He leans over to lie sloppy, wet kisses in the crook of her neck, which quickly turn into bites, claiming her as his. She purrs in half-pleasure, half-pain. He takes his time to devour her silken skin._

_"What have you been doing while I was away?" he growls in her ear. "You lay naked on your bed, waiting for me to come take you, didn't you?" She nods, her words stuck in her throat. "I'm expecting an answer." He nibbles the skin behind her ear._

_She gasps, "Yes House, I did." It is true for the night before, she has missed his embrace terribly back then. But not tonight. She was way too anxious to think about him that way._

_"Did you touch yourself?" he asks. This time, she tells the truth and denies. She lets out a groan as his middle finger slides in between the lips of her sex, caught off guard. "But you're so wet already... Are you lying to me?" She shakes her head no. "Wanna taste how wet you are?" She nods. "Speak."_

_"Yes, I wanna taste." House brings his finger to her lips, waiting for her to capture it between her teeth, which she does. She greedily sucks on his finger, lapping her fluids._

_"You know I don't like the idea of anyone touching you, apart from me. Even yourself," he reminds her. They share a glance of a singular intensity. He affirms his possessiveness on her, and she surrenders to him. Pulling his finger out of her mouth, he bends over as to kiss her but his lips don't reach hers. "I repeat, are you lying to me?"_

_"I'm not!" she protests._

_"You know what little liars like you deserve, don't you?"_

_She shivers with anticipation. He pulls away, his finger then circles her clit, without actually touching it. In a reflex to hold back his hand in between her thighs, she tries to close her legs, but his hips cradled between them force them open. He chuckles at her attempt. All she can do is rock her pelvis in pace with him, with a complaining whimper._

_"I swear I'm telling you the truth, House," she pleads. "I just thought of you."_

_"Oh, didn't you? You thought of how my fingers would flicker your clit," he murmurs, doing so. He presses her bundle of nerves, pushing it upward and downward, watching her with a vicious pleasure attempting to arch and meet his hand, the task complicated by her restrained hands. "Yeah, you thought of that?"_

_"Yes," she manages to utter. Carrying on the conversation is getting difficult at that point._

_"Do you like what I'm doing to you?"_

_"God, yes!" she lets out._

_He gives it a harder push before leaving it. She growls with frustration. He is playing with her, playing with her pleasure, with her body. He dominates her completely. And she realizes how much control he owns over her tonight. She has never been so willing to be all his, to let him possess her totally._

_"And then you thought of how I would thrust into you," he groans, pushing three fingers into her __core all of a sudden. She nearly cries out, overwhelmed by the force of this so abrupt intrusion. "How you would feel my dick ramming into you, hard and fast. You thought of how I would fuck you like you've never been before. Am I right?"_

_"Yes, yes, yes, yes," she whispers. "You're right."_

_"You thought it so hard but it wasn't enough, was it? You need me. You need my cock to fill you." The pace of his fingers sliding mercilessly in and out of her picks up. She throws her head backwards. She is close, so close... He removes his hand as her inner walls start to clench around him. "Do not cum!"_

_She tries to flee from his grip, struggling for the release she craves, but her efforts are vain._

_"Take it easy, my sweet little kitten," he murmurs in her ear. "I'll give you what you want if you ask for it."_

_She tries to rise her pelvis and bounce it against his, but he casts her a warning glance, to which she obeys._

_"Fuck me," she gives up in a weak sough. She is too proud to beg him, but she needs him so badly inside her..._

_"Sorry! Can't hear you!"_

_Cuddy bites her lips. He looks her in the eye while rubbing his bulge against her opening, teasing her firmly. He looks so sensual. Small droplets of sweat are pearling across his brow, his eyes are gleaming and turning into a steel grey. His mouth is slightly ajar, letting out a ragged breath. The sight of his face sends shivers down her spine._

_"Fuck me, House!" she explodes, unable to take it any longer. "Please! Fuck me hard!"_

_"Oh yeah? Is that what you want?" he breathes warmly in her ear. "You want me to fuck you hard?" She nods, nearly crying. "Move and you're not getting fucked," he warns her as he lets go of her wrists. She obeys, remaining perfectly immobile. He unbuckles his belt, pulls down his zipper and shoves his jeans and boxers down to his ankles, before kicking them off. He quickly positions himself back between her thighs, grabbing her wrists where he left them._

_"Good girl," he congratulates her. "Submissive and obedient. I like that."_

_He doesn't leave her time to answer and slams roughly into her, pushing his cock to her deepest. She gasps and, not even allowing her to adjust to his length and girth, he begins to thrust hard. He keeps her hips in place by firmly seizing one of them and pinning it against the mattress. Her velvet walls stretch out following his pelvic stabs. Sometimes a whimper of unease escapes her lips amidst moans of pleasure. Yet, as painful as it is to her, it also feels incredibly good to surrender herself to him and let him use her body as he wishes. He is broken tonight, he may lose it and possibly hurt her, but she trusts him._

_"Is that what you wanted?" he asks, not even looking down at her face._

_"Yes," she docilely answers in between moans. "Thank you for fucking me, House."_

_She knows the position is not particularly comfortable for him, gripping her hip and holding out his arm to imprison her wrists, and yet, here he is between her thighs, giving her what she craves. She wonders how many Ibuprofen pills he took. She wonders if he took Vicodin._

_He keeps pounding her at the rhythm of a jackhammer, until her walls squeeze around him again. "I said do not cum!" he orders. "You're not ready for that yet!"_

_She snivels, yet trying to restrain herself from coming as much as she can. She needs it so badly, but her desire of satisfying him is even stronger. That's why she obeys to him, and keeps her orgasm at bay with all the might she has._

_"Please House, please, let me cum!" she begs him, not giving a crap about how she sounds. She is shamelessly devoted to him._

_"You'll cum when I tell you to," he refuses as he accelerates until he thinks he might tear her for good. "Such a good girl, taking it for me." He bends over to kiss her forehead. "I'm proud of you."_

_She is just about to break down. "Please," she tries once again, refusing to disappoint him._

_"Don't be such a spoiled brat!" he breathes. She can hear in his voice that he's close, too. "You don't think your cum is the most important here, do you?"_

_She clenches her teeth, fighting back her orgasm. Though, amazed to see how easily they communicate, she pleads him again, "Please, House, cum inside me! Please!"_

_"Oh, good girl!" he screams as he explodes, shooting hot salves of semen in her womb with the loud, feral groan of an alpha male. Though he keeps thrusting into her, his thumb now stroking her sensitive clit. "Cum for me now," he tells her breathlessly. "You deserved it well."_

_She lets herself go, crying out his name, which is quickly muffled by his palm pressing on her mouth, hence releasing her wrists. "I don't want to hear you!" he snarls. She loses control over her own body, completely lost in the sensation of thousands of electrical shocks running through her nerves. Her climax is ten times stronger than she expected it, probably even a hundred. The fact that he dominated her, used her, and forced her to restrain herself, sends her even more strongly to bliss. When she opens her eyes, House has collapsed on top of her, yet partially resting on the mattress so he won't crush her belly._

_"That was..." she mumbles, her crazy heartbeat echoing in her ears. "Oh, God!" He doesn't answer. For a moment, she thinks he has fallen asleep, until she gets aware of the freshness between her breasts, where he lay his face. "House? House, 'you alright?"_

_He makes a slow move to gently grab her side, his thumb drawing the outline of her ribs. Hesitantly, scared that he may push her away, she lies her fingertips on his scalp. His lack of reaction props her into caressing softly his head, combing his thin hair. He seems to enjoy it, because he shifts and lies his cheek on her chest, now daring open his eyes. But he still won't let her see his face._

_"It's okay," she whispers, hoping her words will help him. But how could she comfort him? She has no idea about what happened, what kind of mistakes he made. "It happens. You can't save every __life..."__ She cuts herself off. He probably doesn't want to hear her say this. Even if he pretends to only care about mystery, she knows he also feels sympathy for his patients. He is a cripple, constantly in pain, and has been too many times admitted into the hospital as a patient. He says all this makes him tougher, but in fact, it just pulls him closer to them._

_Perhaps he wants to keep pretending that he doesn't care right now, to maintain the illusion of being bulletproof._

_"You can't solve every __puzzle," __she corrects herself. "No one can." Silence. Cuddy feels like she's speaking into the distance. "But that doesn't make you like everyone else. It doesn't mean you're not exceptional to me, House. I'm so proud of you."_

_He remains silent, crying without a noise. His tears crashing on her chest are the only proof that they keep streaming down his face. 'Something else happened,' an echoing voice keeps repeating in her mind. She lets a few minutes pass by until a gooseflesh freezes on her skin._

_"House, I'm cold," she whispers. She is lying onto her robe, her arms still tucked in its sleeves, but it is not enough to warm her. She shifts, House grabs her wrist all of a sudden and raises his head._

_"No," he breathes so low that she barely hears him. The panicky tone in his voice just makes her want to cry with him._

_"It's okay," she reassures him. He lets go of her wrist and she gently caresses his forearm. "We'll __just lie down together under the covers, okay? I'm not leaving." He barely nods. She sits up, he does the same and, carefully lifting the edge of his tee-shirt, she murmurs, " Let me take this off of you." He holds up his arms so as to help her. Then she slips on her robe, folds his garment onto her arm. "I'm gonna fetch your pajamas." As she is just about to get up, he grips her wrist once again and pulls at the collar of her housecoat, the fabric sliding down along one of her shoulders. She looks down at him, their eyes meet, he lowers his gaze but he won't let go of her arm. He tries to explain, but words won't come out, chocked by repressed sobs. He does not want a barricade of material between them tonight. He wants to feel her warmth, to feel her skin against his, to feel her for real. He wishes he could tell her that. He wishes he could tell everything he has never been able to say to her._

_But she seems to understand him. She nods, removes her robe and sets it onto the floor, along with his tee-shirt. Reaching out, she grabs a bottle of Ibuprofen pills from his bedside table, and gives him three pills. He thanks her with a glance and swallows them dry. Then she gently takes his hand, leads him under the covers. He lets her tuck him in, bring the blanket up to their shoulders. She lies down onto her back, he snuggles against her and rests his head on her collarbone, her neck cradling his forehead. His hand on her womb, she wraps her arms around his shoulders, one of her hand caressing calmly his scalp. Minutes pass by in silence. He listens to her breathing, and it eventually calms him down. She is here, holding him. She is not going to leave._

_"My mother died." He barely realizes he actually uttered it. He doesn't really want her to know, but he needs to pour his heart out to her. "She had a heart attack yesterday."_

_She silently listens to him, unconsciously holding him a bit tighter. Tears already soak her eyes. House has no family from now on. She feels so stupid and helpless, trying to comfort him about the loss of his patient. It was so more serious than that..._

_"She had no idea she was going to be a grandmother," he continues. "She didn't even know about us."_

_Most of all, he came back home right after he received the phone call. He doesn't smell like alcohol, so he can't have gone to a bar in the meantime. Moreover, the time that passed by between Wilson calling and House opening the front door fits. He cannot possibly have made a detour while heading home._

_She is his shelter._

_"Last time I spoke to her was two, three years ago. I don't even remember..." He takes a deep breath. "I am pathetic."_

_Cuddy doesn't say a word. If she interrupts him, he may shy away and stop opening up. And he does need to talk._

_"I was the only one she had left and I would never reply to her messages or give her a call. I guess I have never forgiven her for letting my dad..." His voice trails off. Needing to hide, he buries his face in her neck. "It wasn't her fault, I tried to, I tried to but..."_

_She places tender kisses on the top of his head. "It's okay House, it's okay. Shhh..." she soothes him. "You can cry, you're safe with me." He trembles before letting go and crying again, some scarce sobs escaping his lips._

_He will never get over his father. Back then when they were in college, he has said to her in a few words that his relationship with him was very 'complicated', but he has refused to give her any details. So far, she has never heard him mention John House again, and he probably never ever will. It is buried too deep inside him, and no one will ever be able to dig that far. Perhaps not even her._

_However, she knows about it. Or at least, she guesses she does. His father used to abuse and beat him when he was a kid. She cannot be wrong about that._

_This fact probably helps him talk to her tonight. Even though he is not capable of anyway, he does not need to tell her about his dad, because she knows. She shares a part of his secret._

_He grips her arms and maintains them around him. She can't help but cry with him._

_She hates John House. She hates him for breaking down his son. Yes, somehow it made him who he is, but it also irremediably damaged him._

_Sometimes, just like tonight, she wishes she could make her way into his brain and erase every bad __memory,__ to enlighten the good ones – even if she doubts he remembers anything pleasant about his dad. Traumatizing events are much more likely to be remembered than happy ones. But, perhaps that happiness with his father, if any, was so rare, that he might remember them more strongly._

_She really wishes she could make her way into his brain._

_"Cuddy, I... You..." he stammers._

_"Calm down," she whispers, stroking his cheek. "Take your time."_

_"'Don't want to die alone without you," he manages to pronounce._

_She feels her throat tighten. "You won't," she promises. "I'll be with you. Always."_

_With that promise, he cries quietly until falling into slumber. Once he is asleep, Cuddy allows herself to do the same._

_When she wakes up, he is already gone. There is a note on his pillow saying he has to fly to Ohio and stay there for a week. He even called Julia, who arrives in the morning, to come over and take care of her sister. Cuddy leaves a message on his voicemail. He calls back during the night and leaves a message as well. And they only communicate that way, until he flies back home, for the whole week; she tells him about how her day was, he doesn't tell her how it is going in Ohio. His voice is the first thing she hears in the morning. When he sounds like he does not make a lot of sense anymore, she knows he is about to fall asleep speaking to her. In his last message, he tells her to not bother to go and pick him up at the airport, and also that he misses her a lot. She smiles when she hears it, because he came back home and went to bed a few minutes before she woke up._

* * *

><p><em>TBC... Thank you for reading!<br>_


	24. Chapter 23

_Hi everyone! Yay, FF is finally back! I know I promised to update within the week and it's already Monday, but I could not log into the website at all._

_So let me introduce a new character to you : Doctor Patrick Westhall, a.k.a. the kind old gyno. You might see him again later in the story, I don't know yet. Anyway, I couldn't find a name for him (because I can absolutely never find names for characters I create. That's just awful.), so I said to myself, "The killer's name from the mystery novel I'm reading currently will be the gyno's as well". Well I can't tell you what book it was, what if you were reading it right then? I'd never forgive myself. His first name (if you really want to know, but I doubt you're interested :p) is from a previous character I had to create for my first fanfiction ever : Patrick O'Neal. And if you really really want to know, that name comes from one of my English lesson from two years ago. We studied a picture, which represented a teenager sprawled in an armchair watching telly while he was supposed to help his father clean the B&B he owned. Then came the audio tape, with the father yelling from downstairs "Paaatrick, have you cleaned the room?". And because Patrick was a teenager, he replied "Not yeeeet.", and did not clean the room at all. And it was epic. And it was one of the most awesome English lesson I've ever had. Anyway, I don't why I'm telling you this. Sorry :3_

_This chapter hasn't been corrected either, I took a look again before updating but it's 5 a.m. and I am so tired and I am going to bed immediately, so I apologize for the likely mistakes (again.)._

_I am still not a doctor, unfortunately. All medical data come from wikipedia dot org, doctissimo dot fr, webmd dot com, allodocteurs dot fr and mayoclinic dot com.  
><em>

_(Last thing I add, and then I let you read, I promise!) I would want to thank everyone who reviewed the last chapter. You have no idea how much it mattered to me. Thank you again :') I love you all!_

* * *

><p><em>425/12 : Many thanks to IHeartHouseCuddy for correcting this chapter! :)_**  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Three<strong>

* * *

><p>"Cuddy." She woke up with a start. House's hand was gently squeezing her forearm. "We're there." She blinked. She recognized the dark parking lot of her hospital beyond the windshield. Here they were. She sighed heavily. "We have ten minutes left actually," he said.<p>

"Did you need to wake me up then?"

She curled into a ball and turned to the window. Then, changing her mind and fearing to be more easily seen, she turned around to him and closed her eyes.

"I need to go get my Ibuprofen prescription. I suppose I leave you here and I come pick you up in a few."

She nodded. She did not want to be left alone in this gloomy environment, however she couldn't walk around in her hospital and be seen by each and every one of her employees either. She had delivered in her very hospital, thus they obviously all knew about it. She did not feel ready to face their pitying glances yet. "Can you hand me the plaid?"

He reached behind her, grabbed the blanket from the back seat and stared at her snuggling in the piece of material, with this look in his eyes she knew too well.

"Yes, I'm cold," she said. "It's not even fifty degrees outside. Stop worrying for me like that."

"I'm not that worried."

She raised a sceptical eyebrow. He kissed her forehead, got out of the car and limped away. He went straight to the pharmacy, withdrew a dozen bottles of Ibuprofen and crossed over the clinic to reach the dean's office. Following his routine, he entered the room without knocking first and sprawled in one of the chairs set in front of the desk. Seeing Wilson that day felt like a blast of oxygen. He just sat for a second, observing his friend signing a paper.

"I don't think she's getting better," he uttered eventually. Wilson looked up at him. "She asked to go back home but..." He scoffed. "She hurts herself, she can't stop crying..." He let out a weary sigh.

The dean let a few seconds pass by, assimilating the news, before asking, "How are _you_ doing?"

House shook his head once, before answering, "That's not the point. The point is she needs help, and I can't give it to her."

"House, don't do that," he interrupted him. "I already told you how much you matter to her. Do not screw that up." He closed the folder and pushed it aside.

"I know." He dropped his gaze, examined his shoes. "'Can't take it anymore," he uttered in a low voice. "I miss her." He then decided to toy absent-mindedly with the knob of his cane. " She's just not herself anymore."

"House," Wilson spoke up quietly. "Take some time for yourself. We can go bowling some night or..."

"She doesn't fight me!" he let out in an almost yell. "She doesn't try to stand up to me. She backs down, she just lies down and cries."

"You really need some time off," the dean insisted.

"You don't get it. I can't leave her, Wilson! I can't leave her alone because anything could happen to her." He took a few ragged breaths. "I don't know where _my_ Cuddy has gone..." He passed a hand over his brow, Wilson watching him with pursed lips. "It's already two, I should go," House said then, standing up. He did not care much about arriving on time for the appointment, his main goal was to flee, as quickly as possible. Before he had time to reach the door, his friend stopped him.

"Wait." And even though he was scared of the answer, he asked, "You said she hurt herself. How bad?"

He froze. This was their absolute secret. But Wilson was their closest, and probably only friend. He could not keep this to himself. When it concerned himself, House was very secretive and always managed to take on. Now that he was not the one involved, he was left so desperate that he would try to reach for some help, for once. Cuddy was the only mystery he would never solve. Maybe he was not resistant enough for her to lean on him.

"She cut herself, quite badly. Found my morphine and almost ODed."

He sighed. Wilson's eyes widened in shock.

"You need to talk to someone, and she does, too. I'm sure Nolan will be able to see her."

House scoffed. "Like I could convince her to go see a shrink. You know how she is."

"I'm really worried about you two. I know Cuddy is not the only one trying to cope with–"

"That's not the point," he repeated, leaving the office for good. He quickly got back to the parking lot. As soon as Cuddy was standing on her feet beside her car, he wrapped his arms around her, pressing her tight against him. She did not respond to his embrace and, instead, patted his shoulder.

"Thank you, but," she gently pushed him away. "I don't need a hug to go to the gyno, you know."

"What if I'm the one who needs it?" he whispered so low that she could not hear him distinctly. She pulled away.

"What? What did you just say?"

He was not able to utter it again. She was staring into his eyes and it would be so much of a weight to her. She could barely carry her own weaknesses; his would be such a burden.

"Nothing," he said, shying away and breaking eye-contact with her in order to slam the door.

"House," she insisted.

"Nothing important."

She sighed silently. He limped to the elevators, with Cuddy at his heels. They waited together in front of the metallic doors, not saying a word. He did not dare take her hand, but turned to her. She was staring into the distance, absent-mindedly nibbling her lips. She had buried her hands in her pockets, thus avoiding toying with her fingers. He hoped she had not heard anything. He did not even know why he had said he needed her. It was silly and selfish. He was her rock; not the other way around. She needed to trust and lean onto him, then he had to remain strong, or at least to seem so.

The doors slid open. They entered the elevator, House hit the button to the third floor. Fortunately, Westhall's office was situated nearby the lifts. Even if Cuddy was able to walk without too much discomfort, she had to admit that the location was pretty convenient. Hopefully, no one would have time to catch a glimpse of her.

The diagnostician looked at her blurred reflection on the doors. This time, she was glancing at her sneakers. Her curly hair was gathered in a ponytail tied on her nape, some scarce locks of hair escaping and tumbling before her ears. She looked gorgeous, but also tired, so tired...

The mirror disappeared as the doors opened again to the main floor. Cuddy tensed, and unconsciously drew closer to House. A few people joined them, none of them paying attention to the couple, except a nurse who kindly held out her hand. "Dr Cuddy, hi. It's nice to see you again."

The dean shook her hand and offered her a polite smile, a bit spoiled by the purplish shade underlining her eyes, "Thank you."

The nurse glanced up at House but did not offer either her hand or just a smile. He did not care. It was better this way, if no one showed fake compassion to him. If he had acted harsh to this nurse before, he did not recall, but it was very likely. Everyone in the hospital knew his reputation anyway, even newbies and students. Yes, the crippled doc who has a noun as his last name may be a genius but he's also a jerk and a massive pain in the ass, so make sure to avoid him as much as you can. He was pretty much satisfied with this situation, in fact. No stupid social contract to respect.

The elevator stopped at the second floor, releasing the people who had joined them at the main floor, leaving House and Cuddy alone for the few-second-long journey they had left.

He walked out of the elevator before she did, his tall height hiding her. A few steps away was Doctor Patrick Westhall's office door. House held out his hand to reach for the doorknob. Cuddy grabbed it before he opened the door and knocked, smirking at him. He wore a look of almost perfect innocence, and squeezed her hand.

"Come in," a voice came out from the other side of the door. Westhall was sitting behind his desk, reading a file through his small half-moon glasses. "Good afternoon, you two," he greeted them with a genuine, kind smile as they entered the room. "Please have a seat." They did so, settling in front of him. He set the file aside, removed his glasses from his nose and carefully put them away in their sheath. "I'm glad to see you together."

"Thank you," Cuddy responded. "I'm glad we managed to patch things up, too."

He smiled again. House was almost amazed by his ability to seem so nice – who could seriously wish their couple to do well together? Though, perhaps he actually meant these words. Westhall was a very kind person. He had been hired by Cuddy's predecessor, and had always been working at PPTH since then. Being able to witness the evolution of their relationship, from the infarction to the recent delivery, he knew pretty much about House and Cuddy. Moreover, he had been one of the first – and one of the very few people – to congratulate them after the announcement of her pregnancy.

He was very close to the retirement; however, he did not seem to find his job monotonous, tiring or annoying. Just like House, he was eager. Except that he was eager to be able to help women give birth, and help parents find their paths. In fact, helping people; something the diagnostician had already given up on understanding. His innocent baby blue eyes would always look into their siblings' with respect, and wisdom. His skin was marked with the passing years, which gave him an even more harmless look. His white hair strewn with red highlights of Irish legacy was neatly combed, his ties always neatly knotted, his shirts neatly ironed. Westhall was a very calm and neat person. This is probably why Cuddy had immediately trusted him to be her obstetrician.

"So how are you two coping?"

"Quite well," she lied. He seemed so nice that she was scared to disappoint him by telling him she had never hit rock bottom that hard before. On the other hand, what could he do about it? His gaze pierced through hers for a second. He knew she was not telling the truth. He just wisely decided to let it go, smiled sympathetically and turned to House, who was toying with the knob of his cane. Feeling two pairs of eyes lying on him, he awoke from his reverie.

"Like she said," he commented.

"Alright then," the elder doctor said. "We'll follow the usual post-partum routine." Cuddy nodded. "We'll skip the questions about your delivery. Any bleeding since then?"

She nodded again, "It seems to have stopped two or three days ago though."

"Alright. Since you won't be breastfeeding, you should expect a return of your periods within the next few weeks." House rolled his eyes with a loud sigh. "Sorry!" the Irish doctor said. Cuddy chuckled.

"Hum, by the way, about my breast milk..." She pursed her lips and blushed, not able to name it. Attempting to gesture it would even feel more awkward. "I mean, I know it eventually is going to stop, uh, you know... But what can I do for now?"

"Oh." Westhall smiled gently. "A leaf of cabbage in the bra will help."

"Eww," House suddenly let out. "You couldn't choose something that smells better, could you?" Cuddy rolled her eyes. The doctor's amused smile widened.

"A bandage tightly wrapped around the torso should help as well. Your milk ducts will dry up in one week or two if you don't try to pump any milk. And then you'll be done with it." Cuddy acquiesced with a smile. "Are you experiencing any pain?"

"Apart from my womb, none. My breasts feel painful sometimes but I figure this is normal."

"Absolutely normal," Westhall confirmed. "How about urinating?"

"Still awkward but not painful."

"Alright then. Anything you would want to discuss?"

"She sleeps a lot," House said out of the blue.

"I'm tired," Cuddy replied.

"But you really sleep a lot."

"Because I'm really tired," she argued, begging him to shut up with a glare.

Westhall just watched them before having the final word. "Sleep if you feel tired, Dr Cuddy. But don't forget to live at a regular rhythm."

"I understand," she acquiesced.

"Let's proceed to the physical exam, shall we?" He rose and walked to the other part of the room, behind a white curtain. Cuddy left her coat on the back of the chair and was about to follow him, when House grabbed her wrist.

"If you want, I can–"

"I'll be fine," she cut him off gently before disappearing behind the curtain. House sighed, began to play with the snow globe laying on Westhall's desk. He heard water filling the sink, the doctor washing his hands. The puff of an air-valve followed, and then, "Your blood pressure is fine." "Great."

A few seconds later, the doctor was putting on latex gloves, and Cuddy was sliding her pants down her legs. Next was her frame shifting and adjusting comfortably on the leather chair. A "Relax, Dr Cuddy," followed a few seconds later.

"'trying," she answered in a weak voice.

"Take deep breaths."

"I'm-I'm sorry, I-I-I just..."

"Don't apologize, it's alright. Take your time," he reassured her in a soft voice.

And House was sure he was fucking smiling. And when she'd be ready he would fucking say 'Alright then'. What was he even doing? Was he sitting patiently between her spread legs? Or was he holding her hand?

House should be the one in there, taking her hand, caressing her forehead, soothing her with reassuring words. Westhall was a fine doctor. He had skills. He was nice. Nonetheless, he hated him right then.

He shook the globe furiously, not even paying attention to the white flakes colliding against its walls. He heard Cuddy breathe for a few seconds, and then she said, "Okay. I'm ready. Let's get this over with." "Alright then. Let me know when you feel awkward."

She would reject his help and let the kind, old gyno comfort her? He hated him! She did not make a sound, but he could almost hear her clench her teeth so as to bite the bullet.

"Everything's alright," Westhall concluded. "I let you compose yourself." "Thanks." He threw his gloves into the bin, got back to his office and sat behind his desk.

"Lovely one, huh?" he smiled to House, who cast him a disconcerted glance. "The snow globe."

"Oh." He looked down at the knick-knack cradled between his hands and set it back on the table. "Very lovely."

"Dr Cuddy is doing fine," he said. "She's healing properly. Nothing to worry about. Anyway, it is very conscientious of you guys to ask for a check-up so early, especially after what happened."

"I'm the one who asked for the appointment, actually. It's been kinda tough to drive her to the hospital," he clarified.

"Ah. I see." Then he bent over his desk and gestured to House to lean closer to him. "I'm very concerned about her," he said in a low voice. "I don't think she's coping very well, psychologically."

"Nah. Me neither."

"You should try to have her talk to a psychologist," Westhall advised as Cuddy was making her way back into the room. Seeing them making confidences, she smiled awkwardly and grabbed her coat. "Alright then," the doctor said with the usual smile. He rose and showed them out. "Don't forget to give me a call for the post-partum check-up in six weeks. This is very important, too."

Cuddy nodded. "We won't forget. Thank you, Dr Westhall."

"Have a nice afternoon."

The door closed and it was over. Cuddy walked away to the lifts, barely paying attention to House. "I told you I was fine," she said in a voice full of reproach. He did not reply immediately. She was trying to make the awful moment she had just gone through his fault, and he could not blame her for that. After all, he was the one who had insisted; for nothing, since there was nothing to worry about, according to Westhall. However, his own anger and rancour won over.

"Oh I am so sorry to care about you! Perhaps you would have preferred me to be my usual jerk and not give a shit?" he spat. She turned to him with a half-shocked, half-furious face. They entered the elevator, reached the parking lot and then their car in a tensed silence, neither one of them regretting their words.

"I've heard about the shrink," she said in midway between the hospital and her place. She let a few seconds pass by and then she added, "Just so you know, I'm not going."

"The hell you're not." She looked at him, completely stunned. "I'll drag you there if you force me to, but you are going to see a shrink."

"No way," she refused, feeling her irritation build up. She really did not need to be lectured by him.

"Cuddy, just be reasonable," he insisted, absent-mindedly accelerating. "You need to talk to someone about it."

"Oh, you're the one telling me to be reasonable!" she scoffed. He did not respond and she saw the muscles in his jaw clench. She knew she had hit his soft spot. The worst part was she barely regretted it. "What if you're the only one I want to talk to about it?" she said in a calmer voice. "I don't want some guy to know about us..."

"You've never talked to me about it!" he protested.

"Yeah well, I'm not ready!" she said, already losing her temper. "And by the way, do I have to remind you that you've never talked to me about it either? We never talk, House! That's our problem!" Silence. "Fuck, what's wrong with you?" she burst out. "Why are you acting so weird lately?"

"I'm not acting weird!"

"You just passed the house."

He braked violently, backtracked and caught a glimpse of their driveway. He parked, Cuddy rushed out of the car before he even shut off the engine. He watched her run away with a weary sigh. Then, grabbing the plastic bag containing his precious bottles of ibuprofen, he followed her into the house to hear her inviting Julia to stay over for dinner. He briefly greeted her with a wave of his hand, threw his coat onto the couch and followed close on Cuddy's heels.

"Are you avoiding our fight?" he asked as she was stepping into the bathroom, grabbing her wrist. He knew that they would not get rid of their misunderstanding as long as her sister was in their place.

"Our fight? What fight?"

She fled from his grip without a glance, releasing her hair from her pony tail. He disappeared into their room, inexplicably angry as hell. She jumped when he slammed the door, and frowned. He would very rarely get that mad during their – serious – fights. What could he be angry about? They had simply disagreed with each other. It was not the first time it happened. Moreover, he had started the fight by speaking about the shrink. She had nothing on her slate.

She knocked on the door but he would not respond. "House?" she called out. Still no answer. "I see," she let out in a sigh. Cuddy gave up and went to the living-room, found his coat lying on the sofa. "For fuck's sake, just put your damn stuff in the closet for once!" she yelled at actually nobody, since she was alone in the room. She picked up the garment. It was heavy and warm. Holding it pressed tightly against her chest, she collapsed on the cushions.

"Are you two having a fight?" Julia asked as she joined her sister and sat beside her. Cuddy nodded, the back of her hand pressed on her mouth as tears were beginning to soak her eyes.

"I think I screwed up," she muttered before bursting into tears. Julia wrapped an arm around her shoulders and then pulled her into a hug.

"There, there," she whispered, patting her back. Cuddy chocked in her own sobs, let her sister rock her gently and buried her nose in her neck.

"He-he said he'd have me t-talk to a, a shrink and I-I can't..." she stammered.

"Shh, shh," her sister soothed her. "One thing at a time. Calm down."

She nodded frantically, took deep breaths. "I can't do it," Cuddy let out. "I can't, believe me, I can't..."

"It's okay, you won't go," Julia promised her, laying a peck on her temple. "You won't go, sweetie."

"I didn't want him to get mad."

And she cried even harder.

Julia could not recall her sister letting her comfort her that way. Although, when they were kids, they would make confidences, share pretty much anything, until adolescence, when Lisa had become a very secretive and introverted person. She had kept a stiff upper lip in front of her most of the time with, of course, some scarce exceptions. That day was one of these. The barricades she had built around her were collapsing.

"I'll talk to him," the elder sister said after a few minutes.

Cuddy shook her head. "He won't listen to you if he even opens the door." She snorted. "I guess we should just let him sulk for a while," she added with a sad smile.

Julia acquiesced and ran her hand through her sister's raven curls, who snuggled closer to her.

* * *

><p><em>TBC...<em>


	25. Chapter 24

_Hi guys! My apologies for the delay, my laptop has been turning out to be suffering from technical issue__s since last Monday, but I thankfully managed to save my files. All I have to do now is to find a way to make it stop crashing every time I open a window. Patience is a virtue. *breathes in, breathes out* Anyway, it will leave me more time to write... I guess... What do you mean, I've got homework to do?  
><em>

_I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, and I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I did! Thank you again for the feedback you leave every time, I really really love it!  
>(I'm still looking for a beta-reader, also.)<em>

_Enjoy!_

* * *

><p><em>425/12 : Many thanks to IHea__rtHouseCuddy for correcting this chapter!_**  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Four<strong>

* * *

><p>Julia had gone back to her place, Rachel was in bed, it was past ten p.m., and Cuddy was sick of House's behaviour. He had not made any appearance since their fight, not even for dinner. Rachel had asked to see him, and her mother was fed up with making excuses to cover him.<p>

She took heart and, no matter if he wanted her in or not, she entered their bedroom without knocking first and carefully closed the door behind her. He was curled up on the bed, lying on his flank while turning his back to her and holding his right thigh. She switched on the bedside lamp, sat on the edge of the mattress. A few seconds passed by in silence. He completely ignored her, although feigning sleep would not have been necessary. She knew he was not likely to utter one single word to her that night. Nonetheless, she tried to discuss.

"House," she said in a low voice. "You need to eat." No answer. "I saved you some pastas. They're in the fridge." Still no answer. "If you prefer something else, just tell me. I'll cook it."

He would not say a word to her. She sighed quietly, looked down at him. He seemed so fragile and vulnerable, cowered on the blankets. His fingers were curled tightly around his limb. He had been in pain the whole time, and she had not noticed it. Or at least, if she had, she had unconsciously chosen to egoistically ignore it. She hated herself. She was supposed to care, to be there for him, to let him lean onto her just as he did. She reached out, caressing his back with her fingertips.

"I'm sorry," she apologized in a faint tone, a sob choking in her throat. "I know that I shut you out, that I did not pay attention to your needs. I'm awful. And selfish." He would not reply to her. Her hand fell back on the mattress.

He heard her shake nervously something that sounded like a bottle of pills. He frowned. Why was she giving him ibuprofen if he had just gotten a refill?

Because it was not ibuprofen.

"I've been keeping this for a while. Just in case," she started. "I hoped I wouldn't need to give it to you." She paused, lay the bottle on the bedside table. "If you want to take some, go ahead, but... Just don't do it in front of me."

She rose, walked to the door, defeated. She had no chance in standing up to drugs. He turned over and, as he was expecting, recognized the pills as being Vicodin.

"You don't get it, do you?" he spat.

She froze, her hand seizing the doorknob. "Whu-what?" she stammered, whirling around.

He stood on his feet, his bad thigh nestled in his palm, grabbed the bottle and showed it to her while looking her in the eye. She gulped. He would never seem threatening to her, but she was scared of what she expected him to say.

"You want to go through this again?" he rasped. She was about to reply but he simply cut her off. "I've been hurting you for years because of drugs. Do I need to remind you of everything that I've done?" She shook her head, terrorized to hear it again, but it had no effect. He ignored it and carried on. "I told you you'd suck as a mother, harassed you for pills, shouted from the balcony that I had slept with you, you even had to commit perjury!"

"Don't, don't..." she whispered as he kept on enumerating, his voice growing louder and louder with anger and bitterness. She ached at the reminder of their painful past.

"I've been pushing you away constantly, I wasn't there when you needed me. I went through two detoxes trying to be a better man for you, trying to deserve you. Hell, I almost killed you because of that... that crap!"

She pressed her palms to her ears, turning away from him. He did not interrupt his merciless speech, took a few limping steps towards her. He was completely towering her petite frame at present, his shadow covering her with darkness.

"We pulled through so much shit, and you throw everything away? What the fuck do you want Cuddy?"

"I want you to be okay!" she yelled at last.

"I don't need Vicodin! I don't want to go backwards!" So as to prove it, he furiously threw the bottle onto the floor, so hard that the plastic walls shattered and the white pills scattered on the rug. They stared into each other's eyes, tension electrifying the atmosphere.

"Just face it, House," she insisted. "You're in pain. I let you take Vicodin, so just do it! I know you're an addict and you nee–"

"I am not an addict!" he shouted, even louder than before. His voice echoed through the room. They stood still, afraid to hear Rachel cry. She did not, apparently fast asleep.

Cuddy shook her head in confusion. "Then what do you need? I want to make you feel better, but you... You never let me get close to you!" She drew closer to him, her exhaustion expressed in her gestures. "You promised me you'd tell me if anything felt wrong, or awkward, but you never let me know! You never keep your promises! And I am so sick of having to decode your behavior!"

"Maybe you should just realize you are part of the problem, too!" he yelled back. "Just look at you!"

She glared at him. "Oh, I'm the problem here? Fine," she said coldly. "I'm sorry I got pregnant with your kid, I'm sorry I've carried your offspring for nine fucking months, I'm sorry I couldn't give birth to it! It's all my fault after all!" she cried.

"It's not what I meant!"

"Just leave if I'm a problem to you!" she carried on, not hearing him. "I'm not holding you back!"

"Yes you are!"

"No I'm not! I don't need you, House!" she argued back.

"Yes you are! I leave you alone one single morning and you end up drunk..." he started enumerating again.

"Get out!" she ordered, pointing out at the door and refusing to listen to him.

"You almost killed yourself! You're unstable, you have no clue what you're doing, you can't take care of yourself!"

"Just get the fuck out!"

"Yeah you're holding me back, because you're weak and you're fucking us up!"

His hand caught hers before it reached his cheek.

Even Cuddy had not seen it coming. They froze, eyes locked, both in shock. She had never turned violent during their fights, and neither had he. It was always about words. Hitting, hurting with words. Even though it could hit harder and damage more than a fist.

They seemed to have pushed things too far, at the point where she had wanted to slap him. Well, she had not really wanted it but, the thought of hitting him must have somehow crossed her mind blinded with anger. She let out a nervous sob, pulling them back into reality. He let go of her hand.

"I'll take the guest room," Cuddy mumbled, avoiding eye-contact, and turned around. He just nodded and watched her leave, before sprawling back to bed.

* * *

><p><em>"Cuddy," he whines.<em>

_"Hold on."_

_"Cuuuuuddyyyyyyy," he insists._

_"I just have to finish that!"_

_He sighs, pushes the screen of the computer down, closing the laptop. She glares up at him as they ear the soft music preceding the standby mode._

_"It's six already. Time for the couch moment," House says. She reaches out to turn on the computer again, but he keeps it closed._

_"Not today," she refuses._

_"I said, it's time for our couch moment!" He goes round her desk, grabs her hand, props her onto her feet and leads her to the sofa, gently but still firmly, leaving her no choice. Giving up, she sprawls on the cushions. Relaxing won't be so bad. As long as she can get back to work right after. He closes the blinds, locks the door, before kneeling down in front of the coffee table. House lifts her feet, removes her shoes. He abandons the right foot on the table, massages the left one, then her ankle, her calve, her knee, her thigh, up to the top edge of her stocking, which he rolls down her leg. All the way along, she moans with well-being._

_"You're way too tensed," he says as he takes care of her right leg, her ankle lying on his shoulder._

_"I know."_

_His thumb presses a spot on the underside of her calf. "Feel how it's knotted here?"_

_"Just keep silent, will ya?" she cuts him off, rubbing her temples. He obeys, wordlessly carrying on the massage. Then he sits down beside her, peels off her jacket and her top, releases her painful breasts from her bra. She lets him, too tired to protest. He pats his left thigh. She smiles slightly and lies down, her head resting on his lap._

_A few minutes pass by in silence. She closes her eyes, just enjoying the moment, while he slips a hand in her hair, and sometimes caresses her forehead. Her hands wander across her womb. She feels great. The exhaustion compressing her temples begins to ease. She does not want to ever get up._

_"Did you cook dinner?" she asks all of a sudden._

_"Nope. Didn't have time."_

_"For God's sake, House!" she complains. "We're going to have dinner so late tonight again!"_

_"No, we're not. We'll order Chinese or..."_

_"I want a real meal," she interrupts him._

_He lets out a weary sigh. "Yeah, well, I sort of was in the hospital doing my job, so I didn't have time to cook. Sorry!"_

_"Doing your job, which means showing up at ten, stealing Wilson's lunch," she says as she sits up, grabbing her bra to clasp it behind her back. He watches her do so with disappointment. "Sitting around all day pretending to think, and avoiding clinic duty." She slips on her stilettos – or rather, forces her feet into them. "And when actually doing clinic duty, annoying your world. You're just so busy!" she adds._

_"I haven't annoyed you in days," he pleads._

_"Do you know what I was working on when you walked in?" Cuddy asks, raising her voice as she passes her top over her head. "A file for the lawyer because one of your patients complained about you again!" He rises to hand her her jacket. "You make efforts for me, I get it," she keeps on speaking. "But try to do the same with your patients."_

_She walks to her desk, grabs her laptop and a few papers. He takes them away from her, sets them back on the table as she glares up at him._

_"Oh, no. No no no. You're not bringing that home."_

_She sighs, massages her forehead. "House, if I don't finish that tonight, I'll have more work to do tomorrow, and the day after, and it's going to pile up, and..."_

_He doesn't listen, takes her coat from the coat hanger, her briefcase and then her hand. "Come on, let's get you home."_

_She obeys and follows him out, reluctantly._

_They're home twenty minutes later, Marina hurries out, knowing they need some intimacy. House insists to take Cuddy's coat and bag from her, quickly massaging her shoulders. She runs away to Rachel's room, where the kid is playing. He grabs the phone and follows her._

_"Hey you," he greets as he enters the room. Rachel runs to him, holds out her arms to demand to be carried. He lifts her carefully, props her onto the crook of his elbow._

_"What do you want for dinner?" he asks Cuddy, beginning to dial a number._

_"Prickles!" Rachel exclaims after she pecked his cheek._

_He passes his fingers across his stubble. "Ooh. Does it?"_

_"House," the dean huffs. "I told you no." He casts her one of these disapproving stares that she loathes so much. "Alright," she gives up. "Whatever you want." The stare persists. "Look, I don't know! Okay? Just order anything!" she replies dryly. Her daughter peers at her with a frown, worried. Cuddy smiles to her. "How about taking your bath, honey?"_

_The toddler cheerfully acquiesces, House puts her down onto the ground, lets her go to the bathroom with her mom._

_"Shouldn't you get changed first?" he shouts, following in their footsteps._

_"I'm fine," she says, almost shutting the door in his face._

_He freezes there for a moment, stunned, sighs and limps away to the living-room. Of course, she is tired, has not seen her daughter all day, so she needs to spend some time away from him. He understands that. However, he feels neglected. Even though they work in the same building, he can barely see her. He misses her, terribly. Their relationship seems to have lost its spark, which used to spring between them. It is becoming boring. A boring load of routine._

_It is hard to admit it, but he is worried. Sometimes, she seems to forget that she is not on her own, and that this baby is as much his as it is hers. She should take care of the life growing inside her. Does she want this baby? As much as he does? He wonders._

_He really wants it. He already loves this kid!_

_He wants a family with her, wants to watch his children grow up, to grow old with Cuddy by his side. He is sick of being miserable. He wants a lot of things, and he wonders if he is still able to get them. It feels like they slipped away from him before he had time to realize it and catch up. Like a piece of soap._

_After dinner, she puts Rachel into bed and settles on the couch, a blanket on her lap and a cup of tea in her hands, mostly to keep her palms warm because she barely sips on her drink. He tries to read a magazine, sitting beside her, but it is impossible to focus. He needs to know, even though his stomach twists with anguish when he considers asking her._

_Words blurt out of this mouth before he can stop them."Do you still want Offspring?"_

_She tenses, blinks, takes a nervous sip of her tea, turns to him, astonishment painted all over her face, and stares at him for one second or two before uttering coldly, "How can you even ask such a question?"_

_She gets back to the contemplation of her tea, rocking her mug, the light of the lamp splintered across the dark green liquid. "You don't want it," she murmurs, covering her eyes with a hand, and then letting it fall on the cushions. "I knew you would back down eventually." She shakes her head slightly, eyes lost into the distance. Her dream is collapsing._

_"I'm not backing down!" he protests after a few seconds. "I want this baby as much as you do."_

_"Then why do you ask that?" she cries, angrily putting the mug down on the table. She stands up, faces him. "Of course I want it! Do you think I would keep it if I did not? Getting pregnant past forty years old is risky, especially for me, and you know that!"_

_"Well I don't think you do," he says, getting on his feet, thus towering her. However, she looks him in the eye, unimpressed. "Look at you, Cuddy. You hide your pregnancy to the whole hospital, when you're back home you're dead tired. You're five months pregnant and you haven't taken one single day off. This is what I call taking risks!"_

_"I'm not taking risks! I just don't want to lose my job and my hospital. You have no idea how hard I fought for this."_

_"Your hospital, it's always about your hospital!" he snarls at her. "You don't seriously think that you can handle a kid, a risky pregnancy and a stressing job all at once?"_

_Cuddy fights back, defending her pride. "I can do it!"_

_"You can't! Maybe that's why you miscarried five years ago, don't you think? Because you're overworking?"_

_Tears begin to moist her eyes. "You don't know what you're talking about, House! You weren't there!" she yells, a sob in her voice. "You've never been there, you're never there!"_

_"I'm never there?" he shouts even louder than her. "How the fuck can you say that? I've been living at your place since we got back together, supporting you and–"_

_"Right! Living at my place and supporting me, which, to you, means sprawling on my couch, sometimes having sex with me, lazying around most of the time. You never help me! You barely cook the meals, never help me with the laundry, the ironing, the housework, the groceries,..."_

_He interrupts her never-ending enumeration. "I'm kind of a cripple, you know."_

_"Don't tell me your leg prevents you from putting the laundry into the washing machine! You can't always use it as an excuse. I'm not asking you to hoover all over the place and stand up for hours, I just want you to give me a hand! Is that so much to ask?" He tries to argue back, but she cuts him off. "By the way, does your leg prevent you from putting down the toilet seat? Closing the drawers in the bathroom? You better make a change, otherwise we're not gonna work as a family, and I am gonna kick your ass out! I can't just do everything!"_

_"Am I really the one who finds excuses here?"_

_"Don't avoid the subject!" she has time to yell. He ignores it._

_"You don't hide your pregnancy because you're afraid to lose your job. You're ashamed to be with me. It's all about your fucking pride!"_

_"You're wrong! You're so, so wrong!" she denies._

_"Honestly, what will people say? Oh, look, the dean of Medicine got knocked up by the middle-aged crippled, drug-addict son of a bitch!" he imitates. "Poor kid, he didn't deserve to be born in such a fucked-up family! Oh I wonder what he'll look like! Maybe he'll end up as a junkie like his father, or maybe the social services will save him from hell before he fucking turns two!"_

_Cuddy is now casting him a terrible glare. This is not banter, they are having a real fight, with real consequences. They both realize it._

_"You know, I'd better be sleeping at my place tonight," he spits, grabbing his cane and limping towards the entry door, his leather jacket left nearby._

_"Yeah, you should!"_

_He slams the door._

_Cuddy sleeps peacefully this night, his absence in her bed is almost a blessing. Rachel wakes up from a bad dream around two a.m., and this time she gets to sleep in Mommy's huge bed as comfort._

_House watches 'The Real Housewives of New Jersey' in his underwear with a glass of bourbon, sitting on his couch. For once, loneliness feels awesome._

_The morning after, he arrives at the hospital late as usual, even though ten o'clock is now considered as on time when concerning House. He takes a look inside Cuddy's office. She is sorting out some papers, standing up with her back turned to the door. Then her eyes seem to fall onto the picture taken with Rachel. She lifts the frame so as to look at it more closely._

_He thinks that soon, this photo will be replaced by a new one, with the four of them. Cuddy turns around as he walks in and shuts the door behind him. Here they are. He made the first move. Now it is her turn to reach for him. She looks him in the eye for a few seconds, sets the frame back on the furniture, without breaking eye-contact. And, almost shyly, she draws closer to him as he reaches behind him to close the blinds. Their bodies meet, their arms wrap around each other. They share a tender kiss, which tastes like surrender, resignation, and starvation. They need some time off together, just the two of them – or rather, the three of them._

_Cuddy slightly pulls away to catch her breath, rests her forehead on his shoulder as one of his hands trails down her torso, threads its way underneath her blouse and gently cups her belly. She shivers with pleasure, hugs him tighter._

_They don't apologize or try to explain themselves, because they know it would be lies. They meant what they said, even though they hurt each other. He was right. She carries a baby, she must take care of herself. She gave Westhall a call and scheduled a fifth-month check-up. House, on the other hand, promised himself to give her a hand more often. He just cannot keep complaining about her having a risky behaviour if he does not help her and try to fix it. Matter of principles._

_"My place at seven?" he suggests._

_"Your place at seven," she confirms. "I'll call Marina."_

_"Don't bother, I'll do it."_

_Cuddy nods, with a grateful smile. They remain embraced for quite a while, motionless, just enjoying the moment. She gently pulls away and pecks his lips._

_"See you tonight then," she whispers._

_"Yeah."_

_They smile. She cups his cheek and kisses him once more, before letting him go._

* * *

><p><em>TBC...<br>_


	26. Chapter 25

_Hello! I'm back with an other chapter. It hasn't been corrected yet though, but it will. Soon. I couldn't leave you without an update for too long :) Thank you very much for the feedback you left last time! As usual, it was extremely appreciated. (honestly, your reviews make me giggle with joy every time I read them. \o/)_

_This is dedicated to you my friend Louis, even though you don't read my stories. (Actually it's dedicated to your pokes. Soooo inspiring. *Don't poke me because I will poke you baaaack!* You should expect a revenge, p'tit!)_

_**Minor smut warning for this chapter. **Also contains spoilers for 5x13 "Big Baby". I'll try to involve Rachel more often, I promise! _

_I hope you'll all enjoy! *hug*_

* * *

><p><em>425/12 : Many thanks to IHeartHouseCuddy for beta-reading!  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Five<strong>

* * *

><p>Seven thirty, the usual time for Rachel to wake up. Cuddy's alarm clock rang, she jumped out of bed and slipped her robe on. She tiptoed out of the guest room, finding House carefully closing his door. Their glances met and did not let go of each other as their bodies froze. They had not expected to both wake up for Rachel. In his eyes, the anger of the night before had vanished away, replaced with sorrow and regrets. He knew he had hurt her, even though he had done nothing but telling her the truth. Once again, he had failed. He was supposed to take care of her and instead, he had annihilated the little efforts she had made to remain strong, and broken her again.<p>

What he did not know was that she felt incredibly grateful that he had told her the mere verity. She knew that she was an obstacle to their healing, but she needed to hear it from House. Whatever House said, it always was absolutely correct. He was the only one she believed unreservedly.

She ached to see him so heartsick and afflicted for nothing.

He was the first one to give up and glanced down at his feet.

"House," she whispered before he turned away, holding him back. He shivered. His name on her lips sounded like a painful, desperate cry. He looked up at her. "How about taking a bath together, when Rachel's at school?" she suggested.

He smiled slightly, "Sure."

She then drew closer to him, snuggled against his chest as he pulled her into a hug. Their fight was so far behind them at present. But even though it was forgiven, it was not forgotten yet.

"I'm gonna make some pancakes," she said after a few comforting seconds.

He nodded, "Okay. I'll get her ready for school." Pecking the crown of her head, he let her pull away. They shared a smile, and he cautiously pushed open Rachel's door. He disappeared into the room, opened the curtains the slightest bit so that the kid could awake to the light of morning without being blinded. Cuddy leant onto the door frame, observed him with tenderness bend over the bed.

"Rachel, hi," he murmured, caressing her hair. She grunted. "It's time to wake up, Rach."

"Daddy," she grumbled, apparently still half-asleep, holding out her arms to him. He lifted her, let her wrap her arms around his neck and bury her face in his shoulder.

"It's time to wake up and go to school," he continued in a soft voice, limping towards the window. "Time to see your friends, and learn a billion interesting things." He pulled at the curtains, revealing the landscape behind the glass, bathed in a weak light. "See? In, let's say, thirty minutes from now, it'll be sunny."

Rachel yawned.

Cuddy would always remember the moment when he had held her in his arms for the first time. He surely would not have asked her to if she had not made the first move, but she just could not miss how he would peer at her baby while she was talking to him. He probably wasn't even listening to her. As he had held her tiny body, he had looked at her with perplexity, as if he had never seen a newborn before. Rachel had looked back with big, curious blue eyes. And then she had regurgitated on him. Cuddy could not tell that he had been emotionally moved by the cuteness of the scene, House was not that kind of person – moreover, half-digested milk was spread across his shirt, nobody would be happy with that. Her, on the other hand, had felt grateful for that. After all, had not he thrown baby barf on her sweater in order to deter her from adopting Joy, a few months before? It was only fair. But what made her the proudest was when he had run out of his office to solve his current case. Rachel was barely two months old back then, and she was already a great help to her daddy-to-be!

While it had taken Cuddy days to establish a real connection with her adoptive daughter, making eye-contact with House had been immediate. She could have been jealous, but this secret dream of hers of being a family with the diagnostician would keep creeping silently inside of her, and it had driven her mad with joy, even given her hope about the possible evolution of their relationship.

She had been warned when she had started dating him; House was moody, House was unstable, House was harsh. She knew all that. Even House himself had told her he might hurt her! She had tried to protect her daughter at first, by meeting him outside her place. They had spent very scarce whole nights together at his apartment. Since the nanny could not keep Rachel twenty-four hours a day, Cuddy would never stay after midnight. It had been unfair. Unfair to Rachel, because she would get to see her mother even more rarely than before, and unfair to House, because in spite of his giving her his so fragile heart, she had not completely trusted him back, and she knew he had felt frustrated to spend so little time with her while they had just got together.

And even if House and Rachel had been intimidated by each other at first, Cuddy had known there would be a strong bond between them. And she was right. She could not have been luckier. He was a total sugar daddy; protective, thoughtful, and from time to time, possessive. Although sometimes, he acted like such a brat that she would think she was a mother of two.

She walked away before House spotted her staring at them, a smile on her face.

* * *

><p>When he came back from school, Cuddy was busy washing the dishes in the kitchen. He hanged his coat in the closet before joining her.<p>

"Let me help you with that," he said casually, as if it were the most obvious thing to do, grabbing a dish towel and beginning to wipe dry the plates she had just washed.

She briefly stared at him, astonished, then pronounced a sceptical, "Thanks."

"The faster we finish that, the faster we get naked in the tub."

As an answer, she smacked his butt with a chuckle. "How did I not see that coming!"

"Feeling a little playful this morning, are we?" he teased. Before she could reply, his hand made its way to her hips and poked her. She jolted with surprise, dropped into the sink the saucepan she had in her hands. House threw the towel away, began to tickle her ribs.

"House, stop!" she managed to utter between her laughs. He swung his arms shut around her to keep her from squirming. She attempted to flee, so he dropped a kiss to her neck, just below her ear. Her hands found his behind and grabbed it. In the second, her lips were pressed to his. He held her tight as they kissed tenderly.

"The faster we finish that, you said?" she quoted him when they pulled apart. She shook her head with a sigh. "You're impossible. Stop playing around!"

"Not my fault," he pleaded. "You spanked me!"

"You deserved it." She cocked a playful eyebrow and escaped from his embrace, resuming the washing-up. He watched her with an amused glance, shaken out of his contemplation when she handed him the saucepan. "'You gonna wipe that or what?"

He smirked. "Yes, mistress."

Their banter and foreplay were back.

He picked up the towel and started to wipe the saucepan frantically.

"I wish you were that productive with the household chores more often."

"You're absolutely right," he said, putting the utensil in a drawer. "We should get naked more often."

She rolled her eyes with a smile on her lips as he took care of the plates. When they were done a few minutes later, he barely gave her time to sponge the sink and grabbed her hand, leading her to the bathroom. He almost ran to the bathtub, turned on the tap to fill it with hot water. Then he searched into the cabinet through her bath salts. He sighed. How could women need so much stuff for a bath? Eventually, he made a choice and picked the vanilla foam.

He started undressing, noticed her standing sideways in front of the mirror, naked, her hand grasping and feeling the loose flesh of her belly. Then she slightly turned around to take a better look at her butt.

"Oh come on," he whined, sitting on the chair to take off his pants. "You're not gonna complain about your ass again!"

She sighed. "Why not? Honestly, I looked better before..."

"You're beautiful. What should I say about that?" he asked her, vaguely pointing at his groin.

"Oh you really can't complain about your co–"

"I meant the scar."

"I know," she said softly, a sudden veil of sadness covering her grey gaze. "I was just trying to..." An awkward silence fell over the room. "You're right," she admitted. "That's silly. With some sport, I figure I can get my thinness back."

"Yeah. Lots of sport. We'll practice every day, if you know what I mean," he added with a wink. She chuckled, sat on the edge of the tub to turn off the tap and plunged her hand into the water to check its temperature.

"Seems okay to me," she reported. He rose and she gave him the usual hand to get into the bath. Joining him, she sat in the opposite end of the tub, facing him. He spread his legs so she could settle between his feet.

He loved that tub, because it was spacious. At his place, they were forced to huddle against each other when they shared a bath. Not that he minded being so close to her but, in her bathroom, they had more space to fool around.

Cuddy sank deeper into the bath, until immersing her head. She got back to the surface a few seconds later, pinning her soaked hair backwards.

"Smells good," she said, relaxing into the water. She grabbed the edges of the tub to maintain her balance as he suddenly lifted her wounded foot to examine the slash left by the piece of glass. His fingertip slowly drew its outline. It seemed to heal properly. He was not surprised, since she was able to walk normally again. He placed it back under water and rested it on his thigh before massaging it gently. She closed her eyes and moaned.

"I was thinking," he started. "We could go to some estate-agencies this afternoon."

She nodded, then added an excited, "Can't believe we're moving in together!"

"Well, I kinda moved in here, too. It's not a big change."

"Actually it is. I still think it's my place here, and not yours. Not really. I can't help it."

"But it's right," he said. "You bought it, you decorated it. You weren't expecting me when you moved in here. Remember how many things you had to move just to squeeze a piano in your living-room?"

"It'll be all different in our new place, since we'll choose it together."

He nodded. "I want a big living-room, so there's room for my piano." She smiled. "And a huge bedroom because I want a king-sized bed. And of course we'll keep your bed, just imagine what we could do with the bars on your bed frame."

She chuckled. "Fine. Whatever you want." Then she asked, "'You gonna sell out your apartment?"

House shrugged. "'Don't know. Depends on you, too." She frowned. "Depends on if you still need our sweet escapes."

She grinned. "Yeah, I still do."

"Then I'm keeping it." He left her foot and switched to the right one. "Where would I put all my books if I moved them out anyway?"

"You do have a lot of books," she said. A few seconds of pondering later, she added, "There are books in every room, right?" He confirmed by shaking his head yes. "Have you actually read all of them?"

"Uh," he grunted, lost in his thoughts. "Don't think so."

"Half of them?"

"Probably."

"What's the point of having all these books if you don't even read them?"

With a shrug, he replied, "I will read them. Someday. Maybe. What about yours? Have you read them all?"

"Well... Yeah. But as you can see, I don't own a lot. Most of the time, I give them to Julia or my mom when I'm finished."

"You don't like to just possess them?"

Her brow scrunched into a frown. "But you do like to possess."

"Can't deny it. You're mine, Lisa Cuddy," he said, looking her in the eye. She beamed, feeling her cheeks flush.

"I'm not complaining."

A few minutes of relaxation passed by in silence.

"Wake up, grandma!" he teased her, splashing her face with water all of a sudden, which made her jump.

"What!" she yelled. "I'm gonna show you who's the grandma here!"

She got on her knees and slid towards him, straddling his thighs and pressing her chest to his. Thanks to the fact that they were almost immersed in water, his leg could bear her weight. Grabbing some white, sparkling foam, she spread it all over his jaw as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

"You look so gorgeous with your beard, Santa." Chuckling, she swept the foam away from his lips with the tip of her thumb. He smirked as she kissed him on the mouth, and they nearly burst out laughing.

"Whatever," he said, brushing the froth away from his face. "You're such a brat. I don't think I will give you any presents." She rolled her eyes. "Actually no," he rectified, placing a large amount of bubbles on top of her head and allowing it to slide down her hair. "You're an eighty-year-old mama." Then, imitating a woman with a high-pitched voice, he mimicked, "Oh I hope I'll have such nice white hair when I turn eighty, Doctor Cuddy. How do you keep them so beautiful?"

She smiled widely, amused. "I wonder who the brat really is in this room."

He looked around, pretending not to know. "Who? I don't see any brat in there. Well, apart from you."

Cuddy laughed and, her arms around his neck, lowered down to kiss him sensually. He parted his lips, letting her deepen the kiss.

He wanted her. Her bare body was pressed tightly against his, her tongue was dancing with his own into his mouth, and she smelled so, so good...

His hands trailed down to her ass and squeezed her butt cheeks. She jolted, breaking the kiss, so he kissed her on the cheek, and lay a path of wet pecks towards her ear. He sucked on her earlobe, continued his journey to the crook of her neck, almost devouring her skin. He had horribly missed her. Those few weeks without making love to her had been a torture, seeming to pass by incredibly slowly. Every night in bed, he had resisted the urge to push her onto her back and possess her again. Unable to wait anymore, he thought that he had rarely desired her that much. His arousal was almost painful, pulsating between his thighs.

But she was not responsive, she was nearly as cold as an ice-cube. He was starting to feel guilty to impose that on her, knowing that ten days after her delivery, she would not be ready yet. It killed his mood, his caresses slowed down.

"House," she whispered. "I don't... I don't really feel like having sex." He interrupted his flow of kisses, grateful that she had willingly stopped him, looked her in the eye. She was biting her lower lip. "I'm sorry," she added in a faint voice.

"It's okay," he reassured her with a slight smile before pecking her lips one last time. "I should have known." His hand slid to her back, he held her against him and lay his forehead in the curve of her neck. Yes, he was disappointed. But he could not blame her. If he had waited this long, he could wait again. He did not want to force her.

A few seconds later, as she toyed with the heap of short hair on his nape, she clearly felt that both were awkward. "It's not okay."

"Yes it is," he denied, preferring to avoid the subject as usual. A fight or even a disagreement right then would do no good.

"You promised you'd tell me if anything were wrong." She pulled back and locked eyes with him. He sighed.

"Fine. I miss your vagina." She arched an eyebrow with the hint of a smile. "And I'm tired of ruining my socks." Cuddy was about to reply but he cut her off, "Although if you don't feel like to, it's okay. I can use another sock."

"I'm still able to use my hands, you know," she rasped with a wink. He responded to her lustful glance with a smirk. Cupping his cheeks in her palms, she kissed him feverishly, gently biting his lower lip and sucking on it.

"You know, if you don't want to do it..." he insisted.

"Shut up," she whispered, her index finger pressing on his lips. "Just enjoy it. Let me please you."

He obeyed, grabbed her ass, pressed her pelvis against his with a grunt. Her mouth crashed on his again, her hands slid down to his torso, caressing his chest and toying with his nipples to rekindle the flame between them. She ground against his crotch, feeling him getting harder and harder against her lower stomach. She kept kissing him over and over again.

Then her left hand caressed lasciviously his torso, down to his pubis, feeling him groan with satisfaction into her mouth when her fingers wrapped around his length. She started pumping him in a deliciously slow rhythm, her thumb teasing his glans from time to time. Their passionate kisses turned into wet pecks as the action lower was getting hotter. Cuddy's right palm trailed down his chest and stroked the inside of his thighs before reaching his balls. He seized her hips to help her maintain her balance, slipped a hand behind her head to draw her face closer to his, allowing himself to kiss her lips. His hand on her waist joined hers around his shaft, covered it and guided it, showing her how he wanted her to jack him off. She tightened her grip and together, they picked up speed until finding the perfect rhythm that would send him straight to climax.

"Oh, just like that," he growled. She carried on without him, knowing she had him close as his balls tightened under her right hand and his groans were getting louder. He grabbed her hip once again, trying to restrain himself. He did not want it to stop already, her masturbating him felt way too good. A few more strokes and he would be done. Her scent was intoxicating. She smelled like her own natural odour, added to faint remains of sweat and the vanilla perfume of the bath. The light pecks she was dropping on his face and neck, and her gorgeous breasts pressed on his chest, her wet skin sliding against his, did not help either.

"House," she whispered in his ear, nibbling his earlobe. He opened his eyes and met her darkened gaze. "Cum, cum for me," she murmured in a sultry voice, looking him in the eye. "Give me everything."

He felt himself let go in her hand, biting her shoulder as he shot his semen in the water. Panting, he held her tight as she surrounded his neck with her arms while cooling him down with light kisses on his lips.

"Don't you fall asleep," she chuckled after a few minutes, seeing him doze off slightly. He opened his eyes, smiled at the sight of her loving face. He kissed her tenderly on the mouth, frowned when she wriggled just a bit.

"My knees are a bit sore," she explained. "You mind if I turn around?"

"Not at all."

He let her do so, kissed her nape once she was settled between his thighs. She nestled her back against his chest, let her body go limp as she relaxed once again.

"We should get out," House said after a while of calm cuddling. "It's getting late."

"Give it five minutes," she insisted, craning her neck to see his face. She had missed this intimacy between them, and wanted to enjoy as much of it as possible. He agreed, grabbed her hand to look at her puckered fingertips.

"You sure you wanna stay a little bit longer? Just imagine if you can't get rid of that eighty-year-old mama wrinkled skin."

She let out a small chuckle. "Then you'll have to massage me until I look twenty."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because you love me, that's why," she said in a duh tone.

"Touché," he admitted before pecking her temple. "Oh and I could take you out for lunch."

"Well, technically, _I _will be taking _you _out for lunch since _I _will be driving _my _car..."

"Whatever. That's pretty much the same. So, you wanna go out for lunch?"

She nodded, "Yeah, why not?"

"Can you drop me by the garage afterwards?" he asked after thinking about it for a few seconds. "I need to check on my bike."

"Sure," she acquiesced. "We'll have time."

A few minutes went by, his fingers caressing her thin arm. Then he grabbed the bottle of shampoo and lay a large pool of gel onto the crown of her head.

"What the hell is so special about my hair?" she asked with a chuckle.

"It's turning me on," he replied in a husky voice. She had to laugh at that. He began to wash her hair, his thumbs pressing slowly onto her skull, sending a shiver down her spine.

She loved him more when he was that caring, even though it meant he sought comfort. And she was ready to give that comfort to him.

* * *

><p><em>TBC...<em>


	27. Chapter 26

_Hello! It's me again. First of all, thanks so much for the feedback you left last time. You guys always make my day! I'm glad last chapter was appreciated, in so far as I still can't really write just happy stuff. Okay, I admit it, that means that this chapter will contain some sadness (Ow! Why 'you throwing stones at me? :( ), BUT it won't last, House and Cuddy will get better eventually. Their road to healing is just quite rocky, that's all._

_This chapter hasn't been corrected yet, I'm still looking for a beta-reader,... the usual stuff. It also contains a reference to season five episode six "Joy" (but you have all seen it, right? ;)), and season three episode nine "Finding Judas"._

_I think that's all. Enjoy!  
><em>

* * *

><p><em>425/12 : Many thanks to IHeartHouseCuddy for correcting!  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Six<strong>

* * *

><p>Their afternoon had been quite eventful. They had gotten stuck in traffic on their way to his place to pick up his helmet and leather jacket, and the few clothes he had left in his closet, in addition of half a dozen books. If he was going to move in with her for real, then he'd better start now.<p>

His motorcycle was dead. Or actually, it was so tired and had been so pushed to its limits lately, that his bank account would thank him more if he afforded a new one, rather than trying to keep the Honda alive for a few more time with expensive reparations. House had been a little bit grumpy for a while – he really loved that bike – but then Cuddy reminded him of this gorgeous Kawasaki he had seen in a magazine once and had confessed her he dreamed to possess. It made him sort of joyful again and he stopped brooding.

Then it was Cuddy's turn to whine, as she could not find her dream house. She wanted every room on the same floor so House would not have to climb up and down the stairs, and a small garden, although she would not complain if it were not that small. And a guest-room and a spare bathroom on a first stair, why not? And how about an attic? And a giant garage so there would be room for both their cars and his bike? And a porch on the front, with a rocking-chair? But she was patient. She could keep waiting to find the perfect place.

At least, she had enjoyed spending the afternoon with him. They even had had time to go for a walk before picking up Rachel at school.

They had found a small park in downtown Princeton, in a part of the city where they usually did not go. The weather was merely beautiful, the late afternoon reddening the cloudless sky. A fresh breeze was blowing slightly from time to time, but it never felt very cold. The perfect weather for a peaceful walk in a park, indeed.

House and Cuddy were just strolling wordlessly while holding hands, occasionally sharing a chaste kiss with the passion of young lovers discovering the world. Simply enjoying time together after their loss seemed to be something they needed to learn again.

"Lisa?" the woman they had just passed called out. Cuddy froze in astonishment. She might have not recognized her face at first, but she would always know her lazy, unsure and drawling tone. She turned around. The young woman was holding her kid's hand, presumably her four-year-old daughter, who had light chestnut hair and bright blue eyes. Lovely.

"I'm Becca," she insisted. "You must remember me." Of course she did remember. How could she forget the one who took her dream and hopes away? The one who had persuaded her to give up eventually?

"I don't think we've ever met before," Cuddy lied with a small stammer. "Sorry."

"But I do remember you, too," Becca said, turning to House. "You were..."

He cut her off, remembering who she was, "This must be a case of mistaken identity."

"Oh." She looked at them both one last time, confused, before uttering, "I am sorry, really. I thought..."

"It's alright," he said, since Cuddy seemed to have lost her ability to talk, her eyes riveted on the child. She was wondering what her life would have been like with Joy. If the toddler liked pirates. If she hated spinach. What her laughter sounded like. The little girl stared back at her. "It happens."

The young mother nodded with a shy smile, and turned away. "Let's go, Joy."

Cuddy would have collapsed if House had not held her waist. Becca had even kept the name _she_ had given the kid.

"Let's get back to the car," she mumbled. He followed her, grabbed her hand and squeezed it. She was like on auto-pilot mode, looking pale and staring into the distance. "I didn't know she had stayed in Princeton," she managed to pronounce after one minute or two. She scoffed. "I still can't get over it. It's been four years and I can't get over it!"

"You have Rachel now," he tried to comfort her. "And you have me, too."

"Yeah..." she sighed. Sometimes, she could feel again the tiny, warm hand wrapped around her index finger as she had said farewell to Joy with litres and litres of tears rolling down her cheeks. "I'm glad you're here," she said, slightly leaning onto his left arm. He draped it around her waist, letting her rest her head on his shoulder. She glanced up at him, and he placed a kiss on her lips.

She smiled but, inside of her, she knew that the pieces she had managed to put up together were beginning to tear apart again.

* * *

><p><em>This is one of these nights when sleep refuses to come. House keeps his eyes shut, desperately trying to fall asleep. He dozes off for a few minutes, wakes up all of a sudden and starts this cycle again. He does not know if it is caused by him having too much on his mind, or if he is simply not tired enough. Probably both. At least, his bad leg is not on the list. He sighs, wondering how many hours of sleep he will manage to get by the end of the night.<em>

_When he wakes up for the fourth, or fifth time – he lost the count –, Cuddy is curled up on her side, her back turned to him and her head resting on his held out arm, crying. He stirs, rolls to his flank and lays a hand on her shoulder._

_"'You alright?" he whispers._

_"I don't want to-to lose it..." she stammers in between sobs after taking a few seconds to gain as much composure as possible, that is to say quite little._

_"Lose what?"_

_"The baby," she murmurs weakly. For a brief second, he panics and lifts the sheet. No blood, no red stain. Just an ocean of immaculate white. He lets out a sigh of relief and spoons back behind her. "You-you're right. I'm screwing up, I... I..." She hides her face in her hands._

_"Cuddy, for the umpteenth time, do not listen to me when he have a fight," he says, guilt tightening his throat._

_He knows he has said horrible things to her lately and that she is not going to forget them easily. He is as scared as she is, so scared that he tries to get her to open her eyes; she does not take care of herself well enough. He just doesn't do it the right way. If something happened, maybe she would realize it. The only downside is that if something really happened, then it would be too late, and they would fall harder._

_She keeps on crying. "I don't w-want it to happen a-again."_

_Sobbing harder, she now has trouble breathing properly. She tried to forget everything; the sea of sticky blood sliding down her thighs, the white-hot pain that had burned into her lower-stomach, how helpless she had felt when she had curled up on the floor. She had been thinking that if she forced herself not to think about it, maybe it would disappear from her memory. She had been wrong. Now that she is carrying a baby again, she knows it will happen, because it just has to happen. Her previous miscarriage comes back to haunt her in her nightmares. Tonight, she cannot take it anymore. She chokes in her own sobs, freaking out._

_Seeing the beginning of a panic attack, he kisses her neck lightly and, attempting to reassure her, breathes in her ear, "It won't happen. I won't let it happen. I will never let anything happen to you." He gently pulls one of her hands away from her face, places it on her womb and tightly holds it. "It's okay. I'm with you, I'm right there." She nods frantically, and allows him to rest his stubbled cheek against hers. Her sobs begin to ease._

_Eventually, her hysterical cries calm down and she falls asleep, her hand nestled in his. He remains awake all night, keeping an eye on her with infinite devotion. From time to time, she frowns, grumbles, shifts. He whispers soothing words in her ear, and he can tell she drifts back into a peaceful slumber. And it is worth an insomnia. He would deprive himself of sleep just to make sure she is fine. _

* * *

><p>When Cuddy arrived home that night, the house was gloomily silent and plunged into darkness. Clearly, she had not expected that. House should have been there already, most likely spread on the couch and watching TV, or at least Rachel and her nanny if he had not come home yet.<p>

What was going on?

"I'm home," she shouted, dropping her keys onto the nearest piece of furniture before shrugging her shoulders in order to lazily get rid of her coat. "House?" Kicking her shoes off, she walked to the kitchen. Maybe he had left a note of the fridge. She found nothing, no clue. Worry began to creep inside of her. She breathed deeply, buried her face in her hands. There was nothing to be concerned about, right? However, she went to grab her cell phone from her purse, and dialled his number. Voicemail. She tried again. Same result. With a sigh, she gave up. It was really eerie. Where the hell had they gone?

"House?" she called out again, even though she doubted she would get an answer by now. "Rach'? Are you there?"

No answer but a heavy silence.

She went round her place, anguish twisting her stomach even though she kept telling herself that everything was just fine.

What she saw in Rachel's room nearly caused her to have a heart attack. She leaned against the door frame as a support. It was empty. No furniture, no nothing. As if Rachel had never lived there. She started panting heavily with panic. This could not be happening. There had to be an explanation, a reasonable explanation. _Where was her daughter?_

When she stepped into the room, a white-hot pain jolted in her lower-abdomen all of a sudden, leaving her no choice but collapsing to the floor. She felt a hot, sticky red fluid sliding down her thighs and dropping to the floor.

"No," she cried, curling into a ball as if her posture could stop the flow of blood. She held her stomach, tears blinding her. The pain was so intense that she thought she was going to pass out. "Can't lose it, can't lose it, no, please, no..." she kept whispering through her sobs. It had no effect. She was losing the life growing inside of her and she could do nothing about that. It felt like her insides were tearing apart as her body rejected the foetus she was carrying. Why was it happening again? What had she done to deserve that?

She was terrified. She was alone, in her child's empty room, convicted to sit and watch helplessly as her womb was rejecting its tiny inhabitant.

When she opened her eyes, seconds, minutes, maybe hours later, House was standing in front of her, Rachel nestled in his arms. Confused, she frowned as much as the pained pout distorting her face allowed her to.

"What..." she uttered, then closed her mouth when she noticed the way he was staring down at her. Anger, hate, frustration darkened his deep blue glance. She felt tears dwell up in her eyes. He had looked at her that harshly only once, and she remembered it perfectly. She wished she had not.

"It's a good thing you failed to become a mom because you suck at it," he shouted, looking her in the eye one last time before leaving with her daughter.

"House, no!" she yelled, pressing her palms to her ears, hoping it would prevent his words from echoing in her head.

_It's a good thing you failed to become a mom._

It did not work. His sentence killed her a little bit more every time it would repeat.

_You suck at it you suck at it you suck at it._

"Don't do this," she whimpered, curling up tighter on the floor, in a try to numb the pain. She ached everywhere. Her womb, her heart, her mind. "Don't. Rachel..." she uttered in between sobs one last time in a weak voice.

* * *

><p>"Cuddy!"<p>

Her eyes jolted open.

She was lying in her bed, House was sitting by her side, the lights were on, her fists were clutching the sheets. She sat up, totally dazed.

"It's okay," he said, gently taking her hand in his own. She shivered under his touch. "It was just a nightmare."

A nightmare.

The glance she cast him nearly freaked him out. She seemed terrified, shocked, completely incapable of uttering one single syllable. What the hell had she seen?

The door opened slightly with a squeak, Rachel walked in slowly. "Momma?" she whispered, drawing closer to the bed. "Bad dream?"

Cuddy regained composure, turning toward her kid. "Ye... Yeah. I'm so sorry I woke you up, baby."

The toddler handed her her purple plush toy. "Take Rabby," she said. "He protects you from monsters."

"No, keep it, it's yours," Cuddy refused, her voice still unsure. "You need Rabby to scare the monsters out of your bedroom. And I've got House."

"I'm a big girl, Momma."

Cuddy smiled slightly, and eventually took Rabby. "Thank you honey." Then, holding out her hand to her, she added, "Come here." Rachel climbed happily on the mattress, let her mother hold her tight. House watched them with worry. He could tell Cuddy was about to cry. What the hell on earth had she seen?

She kissed her daughter onto the top of her head. "Goodnight honey. I love you," she said as the kid pulled away to get back to bed.

"Love you too Momma." Rachel slid down to the floor, then pointed a finger at House. "You take care of Momma!" she ordered.

"Always," he promised. "Goodnight, kid."

Rachel closed the door gently. Her light footsteps were heard until she reached her own room.

House turned to Cuddy. She was staring absent-mindedly at the rabbit, holding back her tears. He knew she was not going to tell him about her nightmare, not immediately. He was not even sure that he wanted to know exactly what it was about. She had cried out his name, and then 'no'. He was apparently involved in something terrible. Whatever she had dreamed of, it had frightened her. He did not recall seeing her so small before.

She stirred when he lay a hand on her shoulder, shaken back into reality. "'You okay?" he asked. Silly question. She did not seem very okay, and she did not seem to want to reply to him either. He could have slapped himself.

"Turn off the lights," she simply said after a few silent seconds. He did so. Grabbing the edge of his tee-shirt, she pulled it up determinedly.

"What– what are you doing?" he asked, however letting her peeling the garment off of him. As he expected, she did not answer. She pushed gently onto his shoulder, avoiding his glance, until he was lying on his back, then got rid of her own pajamas top, and threw it onto the floor. He could barely discern the outline of her bare torso in the lack of light. She was like a panther crouching in the shadow, waiting for the right moment to leap down his throat. She was unpredictable, and he was scared of her.

House held his breath when she curled up beside him, lying her head on his chest and her arm sprawling across his stomach, Rabby pressed to her breast. And she stilled, focusing on his heartbeat. After a few seconds, perhaps a few minutes, he lay a hand on her shoulder. She did not react, but did not push him away either. He tried to wrap his arm around her. She accepted his embrace and huddled closer to him. He remained immobile.

Cuddy listened to his heart, its fast rhythm slowing down into a peaceful, regular beat. She loved his bare skin against hers, the strength and protectiveness and safety of the arm holding her close to him, and yet she could not get to sleep. Even though she attempted to close her eyes and shut it out, his harsh stare kept appearing behind her eyelids, his words kept echoing in her mind. She was wide awake, shouldn't her nightmare fade away?

She had moved on, or at least pretended to, and left this story far behind her. She had never forgiven him, never forgotten his awful words telling her she'd suck as a mother. He had been in pain, in withdrawal, he could not solve his case. She had restricted his access to Vicodin pills, so when he had needed to unwind, he had chosen to unwind on her. She did not know if it had been deliberate or rather a coincidence, did not know whether it had made him feel better or not. Truth is she had not cared much. She had hidden in her office and cried her heart out, because she had been convinced that he'd been right. She had had no argument to prove him wrong. Even now, even if he took care of her, proved he loved her, she still thought about his words. He could not have possibly meant it, he had been in pain after all.

But there were some doubts lingering.

What if she was not meant to be a mother? Was it why she had lost her baby, once again? What if fate, or karma, or whatever it was, decided that something bad should happen to Rachel to punish her?

She shivered. House brought the blanket up to her nose, covering the both of them with the warm shelter.

They remained awake until dawn.

They were nervous, shaken, awkward, waiting for the other one to doze off first. When the alarm clock rang, House merely held out his arm to shut it off. They both remained motionless. He was exhausted, his leg hurt and he ached quite everywhere from lying down in the same position for hours. With three Ibuprofen pills and as many cups of coffee, maybe he would manage to be able to drive Rachel to school. He had to, anyway. Cuddy was not able to do it at all.

He waited for another couple minutes, but Cuddy would not let him go. The back of his fingers gently brushed her upper arm, repeatedly.

"I'm gonna have to go," he whispered.

"I know."

She listened to his heart for a few more beats, and then rolled off of him. He looked down at her. Bending down to the floor, she picked up his tee-shirt, put it on and curled up beside him, eyes lost into the distance. He could swear he saw a tear gleaming in her eye before she blinked it away.

"I'll tell Rachel you're still asleep if she wants to see you."

Cuddy glanced gratefully at him, nodded vaguely. He was right; she needed loneliness that morning. By keeping Rachel at bay, he knew he had relieved a great burden off of her shoulders

"Try to sleep," he said before swallowing his pills and getting up.

"I'll try," she promised quietly.

Once he had left and closed the door, she silently burst into tears.

* * *

><p><em>TBC...<em>


	28. Chapter 27

_Hi everyone! I am sorry I kept you waiting so long again, life has been quite hectic lately. (To summarize, I have to choose a 'path' for my next two years in high school and my diploma, which is an access to universities. It depends on my decision but also on my grades. Thing is I am more likely to enter the literature path as I'm better at languages, but I'd totally prefer to enter the science path, even though I wouldn't mind literature. Tough choice. So, currently, I'm studying maths and physics like crazy, but it'll be over in two months. Anyway, if you'd like more informations, search 'baccalauréat' into Wikipedia. :)) I promise I will try to update again before I go to Athens for my holidays next week though.  
>I also have to admit that I waited until April 10th to publish a new chapter, as it is the first anniversary of the publication of the story (its French translation actually, but it's the same anyway) and, I don't know, I thought it was a good idea to celebrate it somehow.<br>_

_Concerning this chapter, the sadness is over. (For now. *devilish smile*) Thank you guys so much for the reviews you left last time! I ran around the house as I read them because, seriously, eight reviews, one hundred and fifty in total. Ohmahgods ohmahgods ohmahgods. Special thanks to red blood for the 150th review by the way ;) And thanks to everyone who wrote suggestions! They're all taken into consideration. (I swear I didn't mean to make a rhyme here. lol)_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

><p><em>425/12_ _: Many thanks to IHeartHouseCuddy for beta-reading this chapter!_**  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twen<strong>**ty-Seven**

* * *

><p>When House came back from school two hours later, he walked back into their room to discover that Cuddy had not moved one single muscle, except for her eyes, which were red and swollen. She glanced up at him and quickly looked away and into the distance, sailing back into a tortured world only she knew, where healing is nothing but an illusion.<p>

"Have you eaten anything?" he asked, sitting on the rim of the bed and turning to her. She shook her head slightly. "I can serve you breakfast in bed if you don't feel like getting up," he insisted.

"I'm not hungry, but thanks."

After a few seconds, he dared reach out to caress her hair. He wanted to comfort her, to make her forget whatever she had seen in that nightmare. He just had to find the right way.

She breathed deeply, and eventually took the plunge.

"Can you... I mean, do you mind..." she stammered, before whispering timidly, "Do you mind leaving me alone?"

"Not at all." His hand ran from her shoulder to her hand, squeezing it briefly. She still would not look up at him. Holding back a sigh, he left her alone as she wished, and went to the living-room. He tried to clear his head and play a few tunes on his piano, but nothing seemed to sound right. The notes he played as he poked the ivory keyboard did not sound beautiful. It sounded harsh, loud, inappropriate. He probably needed to passively hear music, rather than create a melody. He sighed. No, he was not in the mood to play, neither the piano nor the guitar.

He limped to the shelves standing beside the bookcases, rummaged through a pile of CDs. He took a look at each and every one of them, a weary pout drawn on his face. He did not feel like listening to any of these. He did not feel like doing anything at all. However, he decided to try again and fetched his old vinyl records. He accidentally let them drop on his way to the coffee table, frowned at the sight of a large, white envelope. What was it even doing here? He picked it up and sat on the couch, simply contemplating the thin package. Julia had probably hidden it in a pile of records, thinking they would have very few chances at finding it. Too bad. But it had not been a bad idea, he knew that seeing it again would do nothing good to them.

He opened the envelope, and pulled out the photographs. He could not tell which one of his curious or masochistic self actually won over.

Mary.

A tiny foetus in her mother's womb. A light blue, vaguely-human shaped pool on a black paper. It seemed so abstract, so unreal, and yet it was a mix of a little bit of Cuddy, and a little bit of him. A human being they had created together, with nothing but their mutual love. They used to spend hours, especially Cuddy, just contemplating the picture of their offspring with immense pride and glee. They were ready to love it, feed it, bring it up, teach it how to tie its shoes or ride a bike.

And yet, they were all alone. The result of the combination of their love was gone forever, had never existed. All they had left was a photograph of someone they had never known, and the remaining of their dead hopes.

The faint sound of a droplet crashing on the paper made House realize that his cheeks were drowned with his own tears. He set the picture down on the table, and rushed to the bedroom, forgetting his cane. He knew Cuddy did not want him in at the moment, but he needed her too much. He needed her badly enough for him not to respect her decision of being alone. He needed her arms, her voice, her scent, her soul, her mere presence. Just to be close to her. For once, he could not take on.

She was about to protest when the door burst open, but the sight of his tears streaming down his cheeks prevented her from uttering one single sound. She watched him sprawling on his side of the bed, resting his head on her pillow, his face a few inches away from hers. Their eyes locked for a few seconds. He seemed so afflicted, so miserable, that something inside her tore apart and brought an ocean of tears to her eyes. She squeezed them shut, broke into tears, hid her face in her hands. House wrapped his arms around her firmly, pulling her against his chest. His nose buried in her dark curls, he cried along with her loud sobs. She curled up in the shelter of his arms, as he embraced her as tight as possible. They cried together without a word. Maybe it lasted a few minutes, maybe it lasted a few hours. The time that passed by was blurred. Eventually, they dozed off from exhaustion, and emerged back in the middle of the afternoon, still clung to each other. Cuddy opened her eyes slowly, her eyelids heavy with dried tears, and her grey look met his blue one.

"Hey," he whispered, surprised how hoarse his voice sounded. She replied with a slow blink. "Feeling better?"

She nodded, before courageously uttering a low, "Yeah." She locked eyes with him. Their arms were draped around each other, as tightly as the moment they had shared had been intense. The force of their tears and cries could have caused the earth to quake, and yet, she had never felt so good since she had delivered. Of course her heart was still sloshing in a pool of sadness, but at least, spitting her pain out had allowed it to stop drowning.

"'Feel good, here with you," she muttered, burying her nose in his neck.

"Maybe we should see that shrink together," he said after a few minutes.

"I'm not ready," she panicked, slightly pulling away to lock eyes with him. "Please. Don't make me."

He nodded. "Okay. I'll wait."

"Thank you," she said faintly, pecking the corner of his mouth. "House?" she added a moment later.

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad that you..." Cuddy trailed off, pondered about her words. "Admit it. That you admit that you need help, too."

He started deeply into her eyes, wordlessly grateful that she understood him even though he did not utter it. House was a turtle, hiding in a carapace every time he was scared. Sometimes, he would let her in and share his fears with her. Just like then. They had cried together in his shelter; an embrace.

His stomach rumbled furiously, causing her to jump. They both chuckled slightly.

"Wait, what time is it?" She tried to glance at the clock over his shoulder, as he craned his neck for the same purpose. In vain. He looked her in the eye briefly, and flipped over to his back, bringing her with him. She was then lying on top of him, and they both could take a proper look at the clock.

"Three thirty," she read. "Damn."

"A bit late for lunch, huh?"

"Seems like so," she giggled. Her eyes plunged into his. She could tell that something was different in the way he laid eyes on her. They were sharing the same pain, the same heartache. She understood him perfectly, without him having to utter any words. For that, he was infinitely grateful, even though he wished they had never lost Mary. Perhaps her death had brought them closer than her birth would have.

He would never, ever let her go again.

His hands grasping her elbows slid slowly to her shoulders, where they deviated; the left one joined her shoulder blade, while the right one slipped in the hair covering her nape. Her breath hitched, she suddenly bent over to crash her lips onto his. She devoured his mouth with fever, her hands cupping his cheeks. He responded to her kiss, pulling her even closer to him. She moaned into his mouth as a familiar heat began to build up in her lower-belly. However, he could feel her holding back.

His empty stomach protested one more time. She pulled away gently, placing a peck on his lips. "We shouldn't let you starve to death. Actually I'm quite hungry, too."

"Yeah," he acquiesced. "And you should shower, Doctor Cuddy. You stink!"

"Oh, shut up!"she chuckled, sliding off of him and to the floor.

"What do you wanna eat for lunch? I mean, snack." He sat up and grabbed the Ibuprofen bottle he had left on his bedside table.

"Pancakes," she said, licking her lips in anticipation. "With whipped cream. And strawberries. Do we have any strawberries?"

"In February?" he swallowed dry a pill and shook his head. "Don't think so." He stood up. "But we must have some jam." Looking around the room, he frowned.

"What?"

"Cane," he muttered. "Forgot where I left it."

"You didn't have it when you walked in. Maybe it's in the living-room?" she suggested.

He thought for a second, "Yep. It is."

House took a step, but she walked to the door before he had time to reach it. "I'll fetch it," she smiled up to him.

Cuddy in the living-room. Cuddy and the echograms. Cuddy back to square one.

"No," he refused, perhaps too hastily. "Don't bother."

"What's the matter? I'll go," she shrugged, before disappearing into the corridor.

He paid extreme attention, expecting any noise that might prove she was in distress. Her footsteps stopped in the living-room, there was a short silent halt, and she walked back to him.

"Here you go," she said, handing him his cane. He thanked her and took it, peering at her. She tried to avoid his stare as much as she could, slightly ill at ease.

"What should we do with them?" he asked in a low voice. She looked up at him and feigned confusion, because she did not want to understand. "The echograms," he clarified.

"Right," she nodded. "I don't know. But I can't throw them away. I don't..." She stammered, "I don't have the heart to get rid of them."

"Me neither," he said. Uneasiness followed. "Pancakes," he blurted out of the blue, limped to the door and ran away. Cuddy pursed her lips, grabbed a pair of yoga pants and a long-sleeved top from her closet. Once in the bathroom, she undressed with her back turned to the mirror. Her efforts were annihilated when House knocked on the door, opened it and popped his head in. She turned around, and unfortunately caught a glimpse of herself, wearing nothing but a pair of panties. She squeezed her eyes shut, but it was already too late.

"What do you need, House?" she asked, needing to focus on something else.

"Uh, we don't have jam. But we have chocolate spread and honey. Which one d'you prefer?"

Stretch marks. Elephant-like ass. Terribly fat thighs. Enormous boobs.

"Neither," she said. "Actually forget about the whipped cream, too."

He cocked an eyebrow, and eventually acquiesced before leaving.

She stared at herself in the mirror, with a disconcerted look. Come on, she wasn't the gorgeous, plump pregnant woman House desired so much anymore. She was just fat and worn-out.

She pressed House's tee-shirt to her torso, and turned around.

Three pancakes were waiting for her when she walked out of the bathroom, clad in her flared clothes and her wet hair draped in a towel.

"Thanks," she said, taking a seat at the table.

"You wanna go pick up Rachel with me at four thirty?" he suggested, successfully throwing a pancake up in the air and catching it back with the saucepan.

"I don't know," she mumbled, rolling her pancake. He dropped the freshly cooked one into the plate. "It's still a bit cold outside." The hissing sound of batter spreading across the hot saucepan interrupted her for a few seconds. "And I still have to dry my hair... How many pancakes are you actually planning on making?" she asked.

He stepped aside to let her see a bowl filled with batter. "As many as I can. We'll have some left for breakfast tomorrow."

"You mean dozens left." He chuckled. She leaned her cheek onto her palm and watched him cook with a smile. House cooking pancakes for an afternoon snack, for Rachel and for her, was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen.

She ate the pancakes he made at a stretch, without even thinking about it. Once her plate was empty, she walked to House, dipped her finger into the bowl and licked the batter off her fingertip. She hummed with delight. "I could drink the whole bowl." He smiled. She snaked her way behind him and wrapped her arms around his abdomen, her cheek pressed to his shoulder bone.

"Don't leave me," she whispered after a few seconds, holding him tighter.

"Well, Rachel can't come back home on her own."

She shook her head slightly. "I didn't mean that." Her throat tightened as she remembered the tears they had shed earlier. He was always there, in his own special way. He would annoy her when she was bored, advise her when she was in doubt, give her a hand when she was falling, reprimand her when she had done a mistake, be proud of her when she had succeeded, allow her to unwind on him when she was angry. He was everything she needed him to be. "What would I do without you?" she soughed. She pondered about all the times when she had broken down. He had always been near her, eventually. She had not noticed it immediately, but his mere presence had always helped her to rise, every time. She absolutely needed him.

"I should feed you with pancakes more often," he said, squeezing her hands. She chuckled. He took a step back, but she did not let go of him. "I might need to turn around because the pancake is ready."

"Well, do turn around."

House smirked. He whirled around, Cuddy followed the move, and he limped to the table with his woman at his heels and her arms still wrapped around him. She giggled like a child.

"You just won't leave me alone, will you?" he asked. She could hear his smile.

"Nah, I'm never letting go of you." Her words carried much more meaning than they seemed.

* * *

><p><em>TBC...<em>


	29. Chapter 28

_Hello everyone! So this chapter is quite longer than the previous one. Hadn't realised it had only two thousand words! (Once upon a time, I was mad with joy when one of my chapter had one thousand words. Guess I made some progress, \o/)  
>This chapter hasn't been corrected yet, I am still looking for a beta-reader, blah blah blah, the usual stuff... But it also contains <strong>minor smut scenes<strong>.  
>I don't know when I'll update again, but it shouldn't last. I just need time to write some more. Right now I'm experiencing the 'epic holiday inspiration'. Now that I don't have to spend my days at school or buried in school books, my inspiration rushes back and wow, I could fill a whole copybook. Don't let it stop yeeeet!<br>Anyway, thank you very much for the feedback you left last time! *hug* _

* * *

><p><em>425/12 : Many thanks to IHeartHouseCuddy for beta-reading this chapter!  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-E<strong>**ight**

* * *

><p>Once House had left to pick up Rachel, Cuddy put the pancakes away in the fridge, deciding she had eaten way too many. Of course, they were delicious, but it was not a great idea if she wanted to lose some weight. Even without whipped cream. Perhaps she would skip breakfast the morning after in order to avoid them.<p>

She wandered across the house, desperately trying to focus on something other than the echograms. Her efforts were vain. The pictures seemed to call her from the coffee table in the living-room. She tried to resist but they were the first thing Rachel would see when she would come home from school. It would remind the kid of how much she missed her late little sister, and Cuddy would be forced to talk about it again. She had to put them away. After a few minutes wasted staring at the pile of vinyl records, Cuddy eventually took heart and drew closer to the table. She kept looking at the old records, as she put the sonograms back into their envelope. She did want to move on. She had very rarely wanted something that badly. If she did not cast one single glance at the pictures, then she would forget, and everything would be just fine, wouldn't it?

What would Mary think? Wherever she was watching her parents from, what would she think of her mother? That she did not love her anymore? That she already wanted to force her out of her memory only ten days after her death? That she believed she could forget her that easily?

Come on, it's stupid, Cuddy said to herself. She was not watching. Was she?

She dropped her gaze to the envelope. Perhaps she could not bid adieu. Not yet.

"I'm sorry," she breathed, pressing the slim package to her chest and gathering the records. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." She slid the pictures in between two albums and put the pile on the shelf, along with House's collection.

Not letting go of Mary would mean grasping at straws; she would never come back. Cuddy knew that. Nonetheless, it was difficult to move on and forget. She could not explain why. She was biologically programmed to feel affection, love, for her daughter, even though she had never got to know her. Why couldn't she just let go?

She pursed her lips, keeping her tears at bay, with all the might she had. She had promised to remain strong. For Rachel. For House. For the sake of their sanity. She could do it.

Hearing the door opening, she painfully stretched her lips into a grin and walked to the hallway.

"Hi honey," she greeted cheerfully as Rachel ran into her arms. Her enthusiasm had nothing faked though, she genuinely was glad to see her daughter. "How was your day?" she asked, kneeling down to kiss Rachel on both cheeks.

"Miss Finch read a story," she said, struggling out of her pink coat. Cuddy gave her a hand. "I played 'Feed the monkey' too."

"That's great! What was the story about?"

"A girl made of snow 'cuz two elders were sad they had no kids. Momma can we make a snowman in the yard?"

"If it's snowing this weekend, sure," she agreed with a smile. "We'll do that. Do you want a snack? House made pancakes."

Rachel nodded and waddled to the kitchen.

"The sonograms are with your records," she then said to House. He acquiesced and pressed his lips on hers to drop a tender kiss. "Rachel needs you in the kitchen."

"On my way." He kissed her one more time and walked away. She turned around, catching a glimpse of him happily serving his own pancakes to his kid. Even though she loved drowning herself into her work, that was the kind of life she had always been dreaming of. However, there clearly was a void in the equation, left by Mary's death. In an instinct, she brought her hand to her empty belly, and felt nothing. No roundness, no kick. Nothing. Her hand cringed.

"Momma!" Rachel called out, shaking her mother out of her dark thoughts. Cuddy smiled slightly and joined her sitting at the table, focusing on her family rather than on the dead. She stuck with them until she had to cook dinner. House had read a few stories on the couch, Cuddy dozing off cuddled up around his right arm and Rachel listening to him settled on his left leg. She had bathed her daughter, with House sitting on a chair in the bathroom, just enjoying the moment with them. Even if it had lasted only a few hours, she could say she had not felt very sad during the evening. Dinner had been delicious. Rachel had not struggled much to go to sleep. Cuddy was now lying in her bed, the sheets pulled up to her chest, waiting for House to exit the bathroom. He joined her as she was beginning to snooze, his legs entangling to hers.

"Hey you," he whispered, before kissing her cheek.

"Hey yourself." He cuddled up by her side, his bare torso pressed to her flank. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders, her cheek lying against his forehead. A few minutes of silence passed by.

"I want to try," Cuddy murmured all of a sudden. He propped himself on his elbow and looked her in the eye.

"Try what?"

"Well... You know what," she wavered. "I mean..." She sighed. "You see?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I think I do see, yeah." She avoided his glance, though her hand wandered across his collarbone and slipped to his chest.

"I miss you," she admitted. He kept peering at her, she could feel it, with a intensity that sent shivers down her spine. Eventually, she locked eyes with him. He bent over after a few seconds, dropped a kiss to the corner of her lips. She moaned quietly.

"I don't want to force you," he murmured. "If you don't feel like havin–"

"Please," she cut him off gently. "I need you, House."

He would not make the first step, so she craned her neck and pressed her mouth to his. Hesitantly, he parted his lips and slipped his tongue in between hers, discovering her mouth again. She trembled. His hand caressing softly her cheek confirmed to him that she was warm from blushing. She remained immobile, letting him embrace her tighter and deepen the kiss. He pulled away, although stayed close to her, his forehead against her own.

"You know I can't do this alone," he whispered, his breath blowing lightly on her lips.

"I know."

Cuddy closed her eyes as he gently lifted her arms, wrapped them around his neck. She clung to him, he flipped over so that he was lying on top of her, the covers sliding down to the small of his back.

"Just... Be gentle," she demanded in a sough. "Please."

"I promise I will," he assured, dropping a soft kiss to her cheek.

"Really, don't... you know, don't..."

He slipped a hand into her hair, pecked her forehead. "Don't worry Cuddy, just let go. You know you can trust me."

She nodded vaguely. Her hand caressed its way from his neck to his muscular arm. She was trying to familiarize herself with his body once more, disclosing carefully every part of it again. He kissed her as softly as he could, not rushing things in any way. He wanted her to enjoy their reunion as much as possible, without him hurting her sensitive body, nor him not taking the time that she needed. He drew the curve of her neck, from her nape to her shoulder, with his fingertips. She was barely responding to his kisses, only kissing him back with the tip of her lips. She would just let him. He insisted a bit, let go of her mouth and followed the same path as his fingers with light kisses. She moaned slightly. He tickled the strap of her nightgown, caught it between his teeth and led it down to her arm. One of his hands threaded its way underneath the silken fabric of her negligee, he felt her muscles cringe under his touch as he passed by her belly, then reached her breasts. A growl of uneasiness escaped her lips.

"No," she murmured. He kissed her cheek reassuringly, his palm joining her hip. Her face was turning crimson. She had never been so shy and timid in front of him.

"I won't do anything you don't want, I promise," he whispered warmly into her ear. "Try to relax."

"I'm trying."

His hands quit touching her and he pulled back a bit so she would not feel hemmed in. She took deep breaths, tried to calm down. Her uneasiness and anxiety did not go unnoticed. He knew they wouldn't manage it that night.

"Perhaps we should wait a few more days, so you can–"

"No," she cut him off. "I want it."

"Cuddy..."

"I know what I want," she argued. House sighed silently and gave up. Swooping down on her mouth, he kissed her once again, and he could tell she was making some efforts. So was he. He did not really feel like having sex with her at that moment, not when she was so unsure of herself. She might claim she wanted it, he remained sceptical.

He stroked her leg slowly, from her calf to her hip, in one smooth motion, settling himself between her thighs. He was still wearing pajamas pants, thus was and would remain harmless as he had promised he would not penetrate her, but her breath hitched, and she broke away from the kiss. She looked away, dissimulating half her face behind her hand.

"Go ahead," she demanded as he had stopped moving. Reluctantly, he obeyed. His fingertips wandered across her groin, reached her curls. She shivered. Her folds were dry as he touched them, causing her to panic.

"Stop!" Cuddy cried out, pushing him away. She curled up into a ball, turned her back to him and did not utter one single more word.

Seconds, perhaps minutes, went by.

"I didn't mean to scare you," he whispered eventually. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be, it's my fault," she pleaded in a low, weak voice. "Maybe I'm not ready yet."

"Maybe."

He lied down onto his back, brought the blanket up to their shoulders. Time seemed to tick by in silence agonizingly slowly. He tried to think of something to say, but nothing crossed his mind. How could he reassure and soothe her? He cleared his throat. No reaction from her.

"Maybe we should get to sleep," he said.

"Yeah." She hesitantly held out her arm to switch off the light. He did the same with his bedside lamp a few seconds later. Then they were plunged into darkness, and she did not make one single move towards him. He wondered if she would be all right with him holding her.

"Good night Cuddy," he tried.

She let a few seconds pass by before replying. "'Night House."

He did not dare move.

* * *

><p><em>One weekend away. Away from the hospital, from Wilson, from her home. Just the two of them at his apartment. First day spent watching TV, playing video games, ordering food, snoozing, cuddling, lazying around.<em>

_Here comes Sunday. They linger in bed, are awake from time to time, kiss sloppily, drift back into a light slumber. They made a mess of the sheet, which is barely covering their frames at present, entangled between them. House brings it up to her shoulders, as he notices goose bumps freezing on her bare skin – it is late October after all. He uses it as an excuse to snuggle closer to her. She mumbles something incoherent and goes back to sleep._

_Several minutes of laziness pass by. They eventually wake up for good, stretch out, yawn, stare at each other with blissful eyes, and afterwards at the clock._

_"What time?" she asks, rubbing her eyes._

_"'leven."_

_She takes a second to register the information properly, falls back onto the mattress. "Screw that. I'm not hungry."_

_He follows her move, lies flat onto his back. "Me neither."_

_"Actually I am hungry, just not hungry for food."_

_She giggles as he turns to her. "I should have guessed," he smirks. She pulls at his arm, he flips over to his flank and places a kiss to her lips. "You do know that it's not actually recommended, right?"_

_"Oh come on, House," she whines. "Just one last time. We're not gonna be able to have sex for months!"_

_He rolls his eyes. "I know, you're totally insatiable and you can't get enough of my body."_

_"Furthermore, you're not the kind to deflect sex with me, especially now that we're both naked in bed. Thus your argument is invalid," she explains. "You have absolutely no reason not to fuck me. Please?" she insists with a sultry pout, sliding her hand down his flat stomach and underneath the sheet. She wraps her fingers around his erected shaft and strokes it slowly once. "I know you want me, House. Oh, I want you too, so, so, so badly..." she whispers in his ear._

_He gives up and kisses her. She moans with satisfaction into his mouth, draping her arms around his neck. She guides him so that he lies on top of her, on his knees so he won't crush her womb. A few seconds later, he growls with pain, and collapses on his back beside her. She frowns, breathless. "Did I do someth–"_

_"Haven't taken my Ibuprofen yet," he says, reaching out to grab the orange bottle sitting on his bedside table._

_"Sorry," she mumbles. He shrugs._

_"At least I haven't fallen onto you and Offspring. Guess my lying on top of you is too dangerous." He swallows three pills, lays back beside her. She immediately rubs herself against him, nibbles his earlobe. "Sixty-nine then?" he suggests._

_"No no no no, forget it," she refuses, shaking her head. "I absolutely can't lie on my stomach. Nor get on my knees." One of her legs entangles with his, her arm spreads lazily across his chest following the curve of his collarbone._

_"Oh well. So much for a doggy style," he sighs._

_Cuddy rolls her eyes. "Why are you guys so fond of doggy style anyway?"_

_He turns to her and pecks her lips. "You're not?"_

_"Well it's a bit disrespectful towards women, don't you think?"_

_House rolls to his side, props himself onto his elbow. "And yet," he rasps, pressing open-mouthed kisses to her lips. "You're willing to let me take you from behind."_

_She purrs, responds with more ravenous kisses. "Because I love you, you ass." Her arms surround his broad shoulders, pulling him closer to her._

_"To tell you the truth, it's not disrespectful at all." He punctuates his words with kisses, slipping to her neck. She throws her head back, giving him better access. "If only you knew how gorgeous you look with your ass up in the air." His teeth graze her skin. She gasps. "Just the sight of you on your knees makes me want to come and fuck you senseless." A moan escapes her lips. Her hands grip his scalp, keeping him close to her throat. "Come on, don't tell me you don't like doggy style." She bites on her lip. He moves to her breast, causing her to arch in order to meet his tongue. "Don't tell me you don't like giving up your power to me." All of a sudden, he grabs her wrists and pins them to the mattress above her head. She casts him one sultry, aroused stare, to which he can hardly resist. "Don't tell me you don't like when I'm so deep inside you." He pecks the corner of her lips, as his palm caresses her body from her arm to her crotch. Her free hand joins his arm, cupping the curve of his biceps. "Don't tell me you don't like when I grab your waist and pound into you because Cuddy, my dear..." He slips a finger inside of her all of a sudden. Her velvets walls immediately clench around it and her hips buck against his hand while she groans loudly. "You're soaking wet just talking about it."_

_She nibbles her lip with a smile. He would do so many things just to prove a point. "Fine," Cuddy admits. A victorious grin spreads across his lips, he frees her wrist and pulls his finger out of her. "Perhaps I might miss it just a tiny bit. Anyway, we're not doing it doggy style till I recover from my delivery."_

_"I can wait that long. I think." She chuckles. They share a smile. He leans over, kisses her mouth and gently licks her sweet lips. His hand slips in her raven curls, maintaining his balance with the other one. Her arms wrap tightly around his shoulders again. His fingertips quickly deviate to her arm, her breast, which he caresses in an infinite delicacy. He toys with her nipple, careful not to hurt her over-sensitive chest. Cuddy moans against his mouth, demanding more. His palm reaches her round belly, quickly slides to her pubis. She spreads her legs, almost hits his bad thigh by accident._

_"Wait," he says, pulling away. "It's not working."_

_She growls with frustration. Getting on his knees, he carefully moves to the other side of the bed, sprawls onto his flank._

_"What now, stud?" she teases. Glancing down at their legs, he realizes the problem isn't solved at all, in so far as she might as well kick his thigh with him lying to her other side._

_"Damn," he lets out._

_"My thoughts exactly."_

_"Well." He cups her cheek in his palm. "Now that we're here..." Cuddy smiles, he drops a tender kiss to her lips before letting his passion win over, and kissing her more fiercely. The familiar heat builds up in their stomachs again. "Can you lie on your side and turn over?" he breathes in her ear. She nods and does so with her back to him, stealing__ another __kiss from his lips, her hand placed under her round belly. He strokes his length a few times before entering her, tearing a loud moan from her throat. At last, he is inside of her. He wraps his arm around her waist, his hand slipping to her wet sex, and buries his nose in her neck, intoxicating himself with her scent. They remain immobile for a moment, merely enjoying the symbiosis of their bodies. Kissing her nape, he starts flicking her erected bundle of nerves. She takes his hand gently in her own, guides him into the rhythm she wants. The growl she lets out prods him into thrusting into her once, as deep as he can. So wet, so hot, so tight... He pulls out of her almost entirely and slips back into her sheath, just as slowly as the previous time. She moans in pace with his pelvic stab._

_And then her throaty noises turn into a disappointed groan. "Wait, stop." He pulls away reluctantly. "I can't see you," she pleads, craning her neck to look him in the eye._

_"You want to do it in front of a mirror or something?"_

_She protests, "God, no! Just face me, will ya?"_

_"Why should I move? Why can't you just turn around?" She lasciviously licks her lip. "Goddamn it, woman," he mumbles under his breath as he, however, does as he is told. She giggles, knowing she has him wrapped around her finger. "You happy, now?" he asks as he faces her, lying on his flank as well._

_"Not yet." She grabs his face roughly, crashes her lips against his with a craving she only has for him. "Take me, House." She feels him smirk as he kisses her again. He then lifts her leg and places it on his hip, slides down just a little so he can enter her without her belly preventing him from moving. And again, just a little more. And again. And again. He is face to face with her breasts and he can't even reach her lips to kiss her by stretching his neck. She bursts out laughing and collapses onto her back. He can't help but do the same, confronted with the ridicule of their situation._

_"We're never gonna make it," he whimpers._

_"Yes we are. Sit up!"_

_He does so, leaning his back against the headboard, grabs her hand as she holds it out to him, lets her straddle his legs. House cranes his neck to kiss her while she grinds her pelvis against his. Their impatience takes over, she slides down onto his cock, looking him in the eye, until her breasts rub against his face._

_"Can't breathe!" he whines, although he seems quite satisfied with his suffocating between her boobs. He palms her flesh, licks it, kisses it. Slowly, she rocks her hips as much as she can, while her round stomach rubs against his own uncomfortably._

_"Hold me," she demands, leaning backwards. He grabs her forearms, almost lets go of her as her inner walls, following her move, squeeze his shaft. She glares up at him, he holds her arms tighter. They take a deep breath once she is settled and begins to use her legs for leverage. She slowly works herself along his cock and, three moves of her hips later, she falls back on the bed._

_He bursts out laughing, "The whale has just been washed ashore!"_

_"Shut up!" she yells, nonetheless laughing as well. "I'm fine by the way, thanks for asking!"_

_"If you were hurt, you wouldn't be laughing, you would be leaping down my throat!" House sinks down until he lies flat on his back, and pats her ass. She does not move, so he pulls at her arm and flips her over. She hides her face in her hands, giggling like crazy._

_"That was just epic!" she laughs._

_"We got too adventurous, I think." With a grin, Cuddy huddles against him. "Well I guess we should stop here."_

_"Yeah. That was ridiculous," she chuckles again. "Seriously, we tried everything."_

_At the sight of her laughing so carefree, he can't help but beam. He pulls her into a hug, kisses her tenderly. She nuzzles against his cheek after they broke apart, enjoying their closeness._

_"You know, I think the laughter we just had released just as much endorphins as an orgasm would have."_

_She chuckles, pecks his cheek. "I'd say twice as much." He turns to her and his lips meet hers._

_"It's not even noon," he whispers, quickly glancing at the clock. "'You hungry for food?"_

_She shakes her head slightly, pecks chastely the corner of his mouth. "Nope."_

_"Good." They share a smile, staring into each other's eyes. "I love you." He realizes afterwards that he actually uttered it. There are moments like that, when he feels incredibly grateful for all the happiness and love she gives him. Such words escape his mouth on impulse from time to time. He can't help it. It is the rawest and the most genuine declarations of his feelings for her._

_Cuddy looks him in the eye, an enormous grin spreading across her lips. He does not wait for an answer, as her smile expresses what she is about to utter, and lets his head tilt sidewards, his forehead resting against her own._

* * *

><p><em>TBC...<br>_


	30. Chapter 29

_**Disclaimers : **I do not own _Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close_. The extracts quoted by the end of this chapter were written by Jonathan Safran Foer._  
><em>(Read the book if you have a chance btw, it's one of the most beautiful novels I've ever read :))<em>

_First of all, I would like to thank **IHeartHouseCuddy** for correcting this chapter, and the previous ones as well._  
><em>And thanks to everyone who left a review last time, they were deeply appreciated :) So glad you've enjoyed it!<em>

_Also, I have recently found out that Julia was younger than Lisa, contrary to what I've been writing (damn Wikipedia for not clarifying that!). Oh well. Not that it's extremely important in the story anyway. I think I'll keep my version if I need Julia again, I'm not sure yet._

_I don't have specific things to say about this chapter, except that, as you may have noticed, I write in British English (although, sometimes I like to slip one or two American English words), but the dialogs are American English. There's a conversation about colo(u)rs coming up, so I thought it would be better to let you guys know. :)_

_I will try to update soon. Problem is I have written two chapters, but half the flashbacks are missing. You'll understand when you see it, it's two important storylines crossed together and I'm having a hard time interrupting the flashbacks without the actual story being forgotten while reading, or the other way around. *bangs her head against the wall* Anyway, with two teachers being absent this week, I'll have more time to find a solution :) (most of all, more time to sleep \o/)  
><em>

_Enjoy!_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Nine<strong>

* * *

><p>Cuddy woke up to an empty bed and a silent house. Glancing at the clock, she concluded that House was gone to drop Rachel at school. Reassured to know that she was alone, although he was likely to come back home in a few minutes, she jumped to her feet, grabbed her clothes for the day from her closet, and walked to the bathroom door. Opening it wide, she yelped in surprise as she caught a glimpse of House naked stepping into the shower, and shut the door immediately.<p>

"Sorry, I didn't know you were in there!" she shouted.

"It's fine, I..."

"Don't worry, I didn't see anything."

He frowned. That was the first time ever she refused to share the bathroom with him, moreover to see him bare. He had an idea of what was going on though; she felt shy, frustrated, perhaps even humiliated, about what had happened the night before. He had guessed she would try to avoid him, but he was still surprised by her reaction. She sprawled back to bed, waiting patiently for him to be done with the bathroom. He limped out of the room a dozen minutes later.

"Sorry again for earlier," she apologized, rushing past through him and avoiding his glance. He grabbed her wrist, causing her to gasp slightly.

"I told you that's okay," he said in a gentle tone. "Good morning Cuddy, by the way."

"Yeah. Good morning." She fled from his touch and locked the door to the bathroom. He watched her do so with some disappointment, as he had hoped to try and kiss her good morning.

His mind was already busy figuring out what he could do to fix her.

Jazz music was playing in the living-room when she walked in the kitchen to boil a kettle and pour herself a cup of tea for breakfast, doing her best not to look at the plate of pancakes that House had knowingly left on the counter. Once her drink was ready, she hesitated before entering the living-room, aware that she would have to meet House, but she simply could not resist jazz music.

She found him sitting on the couch, one of his arms thrown lazily along the back of the sofa, eyes closed, merely enjoying the music. She settled on the other end of the couch, avoiding physical contact with him as much as she could. She stared at her mug, occasionally sipping on her tea, but never looked up as she feared her eyes would meet his. She never felt House's glance lay on her, though. He seemed to pay no attention to her.

Cuddy suddenly realised that her foot was tapping in rhythm with the instrumental music. She had to admit that in spite of the awkwardness caused by them being in the same room together, she was enjoying herself. She mirrored him and closed her eyes, focusing on nothing but saxophones, trumpets and piano. After a few minutes of listening, she felt like the constant battle taking place in her mind was coming to a semblance of peace, like the pieces of her heart which had been ripped apart were patching up together again. She got so carried away by the music that she did not notice House looking at her with a genuine smile.

A few songs later, the CD that was playing eventually came to an end. Cuddy's eyes jolted open, shaken by the sudden lack of music. Involuntarily, she glanced up at House and hurried to look away as he turned to her. She focused on the mug she was still holding, as if his every move didn't matter to her. He rose, limped to the Hi-Fi. Cuddy observed him out of the corner of her eye rummaging through his collection of CDs.

"Come choose one with me," he invited her, without turning around so he would not intimidate her. After a few seconds of hesitation, she set her cup of cold tea onto the coffee table, knelt down beside him. They exchanged a brief look, and browsed through his albums. He was half-sure he saw a tiny smile dwell on the corners of her mouth.

"We should go to the grocery store this afternoon," he said. "Unless you want to eat pastas and rice till the end of the week."

"Okay," she agreed. "We'll go."

They did not really need to go shopping, they were just running out of fresh fruits. As he was unable to go to marketplaces on his own, he used it as an excuse to spend some time with her. When living alone without Cuddy, he would either order his meals every night or pick them at the cafeteria before leaving the hospital. Now that there were three of them, they needed to actually go shopping in an actual supermarket or an actual grocery store. His leg would not allow him to push heavy carts or carry too many things at once, so he would go with her most of the time to give her a hand.

"I've been thinking about starting yoga again," she said seconds later, shyly, not knowing if it was a good idea for her to rekindle the conversation.

"That's a good start. Just make sure your stomach muscles are ready for that," he recommended, careful not to make it sound like he had the right to decide about whatever she did. It was merely an advice.

"Yeah." She handed him one of the CDs she had picked after glancing at the track list. "This one?"

He took a quick look at the cover. "Sure."

"Thanks," she murmured before she walked back to the couch. He joined her once the music was playing, sat closer to her than before, but not near enough to touch or even brush her skin. She did not cringe or anything, did not push him away. She just did not mind his presence. He knew he was beginning to tame her again.

* * *

><p>"You come do colorings with me?" Rachel asked her mother, as she walked into the living-room. Both her parents were reading magazines, each sitting at the opposite end of the couch. It confused the kid a little, used to see them always cuddled up together.<p>

Cuddy set the magazine down on her lap and checked on her watch. "It's six, honey. I have to cook dinner soon."

"Pweeeaaase," the toddler insisted with a disappointed pout.

"Why couldn't I do colorings with you?" House intervened.

"You can't keep between the lines, you bloody scallywag!"

Cuddy giggled.

"Well I guess I'll cook dinner then," he said. The dean turned to him, surprised. "Go," he added. "Since you keep between the lines..."

"Thank you Howwwws," Rachel chanted, climbing on the cushions to kiss him on the cheek. Cuddy smiled up to him. No words. He just smiled back. They had not exchanged much since the morning, only the absolute necessary for the groceries. The kid grabbed her hand and almost dragged her to the kitchen.

"Hey, let me at least get on my feet!" Cuddy protested with a smile.

"Wait here," Rachel said, pointing at the table. Her mother took a seat and waited for her. The kid ran back to her room to pick her colouring books and coloured pencils. She came back a minute later, settled her things on the table, and climbed on her mother's lap. Cuddy held her tiny waist, caressing her ribcage with her thumbs. Rachel flipped through the pages, stopped at the drawing of a vase containing flowers.

"Let's do that one!" she cried. "Momma you do the leaves!"

"Okay. What color?"

"Well, green!" she replied in a 'duh' tone. Cuddy chuckled, thinking she sounded like House.

"Of course. Silly me," she smiled. She picked the dark green pencil from the box.

"No, not that one!" Rachel took the light green one and handed it to her mother.

"Thanks honey."

Rachel started on the petals with a purple pencil, shoving abruptly the lead against the paper. Cuddy smiled. Her green pencil was delicately scratching the paper, leaning sideways, careful not to sail past the borders. She felt thankful to be left-handed, as her hand would not bump into her child's. House joined them a few minutes later, took a look at the drawing.

"That's a beautiful one, girls. You gonna color all the flowers in purple?" he asked Rachel.

"Yeah."

"But all flowers aren't purple, are they?"

She pondered about it for a second. "They're red, too!"

"Right," he said. Rachel instantly dropped her pencil and grabbed the red one. He limped away but kept watching them out of the corner of his eye, opening a cupboard. Cuddy seemed focused on the colouring, but he knew she was lost deep in her thoughts. He could tell by the slight frown of her eyebrows, still amazed to know her in the tiniest details.

"What now?" she asked, once the leaves were fully coloured in green.

"Do the vase," Rachel said.

"What colors?"

"Any." Cuddy acquiesced and chose the turquoise pencil. "Momma, what's your favorite color?"

"Blue," she answered. "I think it's the most beautiful."

"Blue like the sky?"

"Yes."

"Like the sea?"

"Yeah, like that too. What's also blue?"

"I don't know."

"Ink."

"Yeah."

"Jeans. They have a lot of different shades of blue."

"Billions," Rachel said.

"House's eyes."

The kid looked up at him. Hearing his name, he turned to them. "Hows, show me your eyes!" He drew closer to them, opened his eyes wide. Rachel stared deep into them. "Yeah they're blue!" she exclaimed. "Do you see all blue?"

"Nope," he shrugged. "Do you see all grey?"

"Nah."

"And yet you have grey eyes," he smiled. "See?"

"What's your favorite color, Hows?"

"I like blue, too. And red," he replied, resuming his cooking.

"What's your favorite, honey?" Cuddy asked, switching to a darker tone of cyan.

"All of them!"

"Even black?"

"Nah, black's a sad color."

"Isn't it?" Cuddy confirmed.

"Actually, black isn't a color," House interrupted. "Neither is white." Rachel stared at him, puzzled. "A rainbow has all the colors that exist, right?" She nodded. "What are these colors?"

"Green..." she hesitated. "Red..." Cuddy discretely whispered the following ones into her ear, and the kid repeated them. "Orange, yellow, blue, purple."

"Are black and white part of them? Part of all the colors that exist?"

"No. Then they're not colors?"

He shook his head, "Nope."

"How can we see them if they don't exist?"

"Rainbows come from light. And light is white," he said. "White isn't a color, because it creates color."

"But," she insisted. "When I mix colors when I paint, it's not white."

"What color is it?"

"Black." He raised his eyebrows. "Oh," she let out. "Black is every colors that exist!"

"Exactly."

"Owkay!" she said, not paying attention to where she was colouring. Looking down at the book, she gasped. "I didn't keep between the lines!"

Cuddy took a look at it. "It's not a big deal, honey. It's still beautiful." The kid had a dubitative pout on her face. "Let me see." Cuddy gently took the pencil from her small hand, coloured around the red spot and along the outline of the petal. "Who cares about lines? They're annoying. You can do bigger flowers like that," she said.

Rachel clapped her hands twice. "It's beautiful, Momma!"

Once dinner was ready, Rachel had drawn her own flowers all over the paper.

* * *

><p>Cuddy walked out of the bathroom, clad in a bathrobe dissimulating her nightie. House did not look up from the screen of his laptop, gave her time to get rid of the robe and set it on the floor, before she hid under the covers. She patted her pillow, snuggled in the bed but did not make one single move towards him.<p>

"I'm searching for a new place," he said. "Thought we'd get more lucky on the Internet."

"And?" she inquired.

"Nothing popped out so far."

She nodded. "Can I take a look, too?"

"Sure." He turned the computer to her, so that they both could see the screen. He kept on browsing through the estates that were provided. She slightly tilted her head to her right. The thought that she would have laid it onto his shoulder if she had been closer to him crossed his mind. Somehow, he eventually felt sad that she kept on keeping him at bay. He could understand she felt awkward and needed some distance between them, nonetheless he could not help being selfish. He still deserved some affection, didn't he?

"Wait, scroll up," she let out. Reaching for the trackpad, she unintentionally touched his hand. "Sorry," she mumbled, abruptly pulling hers away, and looked down at the sheet.

He remained motionless for a few seconds, puzzled, then called out, "Cuddy." He stared at her until she decided to turn to him. "We're not strangers, you know. You can touch me, it's okay."

At last, their eyes met. He gently held out his hand and she peered at it for a second. Hesitantly, she slid her fingers across his palm, discovering again his flesh, rough and soft at the same time. Her knuckles intertwined with his own, and they clasped their hands together. Her grip was still hesitant and a bit loose, but she was holding his hand.

They both looked down at their hands reunited. There was no more powerful feeling than the delicacy of their skins against one another, the strength that their touch carried. They were so frail, and yet so robust. They could find their balance in this opposition.

Minutes of contemplation passed by. She knew they would have to talk about it eventually. Cuddy glanced up at him. Their eyes met and she did not shy away; she rolled towards him, huddled against his flank. As she did not let go of his hand, he did not wrap his arm around her frame. She was not ready for that yet, he could feel it.

"I'm sorry," she whispered on the verge of tears. "About last night."

"Don't be." He closed the lid of the laptop and set it down on the carpet. "You were just not ready yet."

"I thought I was. I don't know, I panicked, and... I just..." she hesitated. "I want us to get better."

She sighed.

"You think endorphins can solve our problem?"

Cuddy sobbed loudly. "I don't know, I don't know what to do anymore! Why can't we just be okay? Why? It's unfair! It's unfair, what has happened to us!"

Her desperation caused his own heart to cringe in pain. He locked eyes with her. Her grip on his hand was growing firmer. A tear rolled down her cheek, which he brushed away with the tip of his thumb, caressing her cheek.

"Maybe seeing a shrink isn't that of a bad idea," she admitted in a low voice. His hand was cupping her jaw, and he gently set his forehead against hers. "We are so screwed up, House..."

"I know."

"I want to fix us, but I... I..." Her voice trailed off.

House kissed delicately her temple. "You don't have to do it on your own, Cuddy. You're not Superwoman," he whispered in her hair.

"Sometimes I feel like we're just like before," she carried on. "We have fun and I feel great, but..." Dropping her gaze, she snorted. "Sometimes I feel like crap. It's like it's hopeless and I'll never get over it. I want to cry and I don't even know why."

"I feel that way, too."

It took him a moment to admit it. She looked up at him for a few seconds, with relief expressed in her grey eyes. She was not alone. Her hand slipped away from his own, and she wrapped her arm around his stomach. Circling her shoulders with his arm, he pulled her closer to him, and remained silent. She knew he was still too shy to talk about his feelings, and she was fine with that. At least, she was not alone dealing with their loss. Nothing could have reassured her more. If she were falling, then he was falling with her. And it would be easier to rise together, than alone.

House, on the other hand, felt relieved to have let it out. No matter how many times he would say he felt like crap, it felt always right to let her know, to not be on his own. He needed her support more than ever.

As they were beginning to doze off, he whispered, "We should get to sleep." She nodded, he held out his free arm to switch off the bedside lamp, sank down until lying flat onto his back with his head resting on the pillow. She adjusted to lie more comfortably, snuggled in his embrace.

"I'll never leave you, Cuddy," he promised in a murmur, out of the blue. All the words he had been holding back, felt right to be told at that moment. "Ever. I don't care if we don't have sex, if we feel like shit. You matter more than anything to me."

She acquiesced with a slow, lingering caress across his stomach, so as to tell him she felt the same. He understood the message, took her hand gently and laced his fingers with hers. She dropped a kiss into the crook of his neck, nuzzled his stubbled skin and stilled, ready to fall asleep.

* * *

><p>"<em>You're wearing glasses," he points out as he steps into their room.<em>

"_You're wearing __pajamas__," she replies, giving her attention back to her laptop. He carries on his speech, joining her in bed._

"_You're wearing glasses, which means you feel uncomfortable staring at a computer screen, which means you gotta turn that thing off right now," he says, motioning at the computer._

_She whines, "Give it five minutes."_

"_It's ten thirty already. You don't think Offspring deserves some sleep?" he asks as he curls up beside her, cupping her belly with his arm. "Huh? What do you think, Offspring?" He presses his ear to her stomach, pretending to expect an answer. She lets out a sigh of faked annoyance._

"_Move, I can't see the screen."_

"_What were you looking at anyway?" He turns to the screen, his head still lying lightly on her tummy. She is browsing through baby clothes on an online shop. "We don't even know Offspring's gender yet. Isn't it a bit too early to buy layettes?"_

"_I'm not buying anything, just taking a look," she answers, slowly scrolling down the page to take the time to look carefully at each item. "Oh that's really cute, isn't it?" She clicks on a pair of yellow __pajamas__ with a duck printed on the front to enlarge the picture in order to show him._

"_Well... That's a duck. I'm sure your sis' will give you her kid's clothes anyway."_

_Cuddy chuckles. "She told me to call her right after we find out the gender so she can start packing the newborn clothes she's been keeping. Rachel was too old to wear them when I adopted her, but she did not get rid of them because she was convinced I would give birth eventually." She smiles with a hint of bitterness. Julia has never given up on her sister's dream._

"_And as you said, we'll have Rachel's clothes too if Offspring turns out to be a girl. I hardly believe it, though."_

"_Of course it will be a girl," Cuddy smiles._

_He turns to her with a smirk. "If I were you, I wouldn't be so sure. I can't live in the same house with three girls. You know it and so do my gametes."_

_She laughs again. "But your gametes know that I'd prefer a girl, and they want to please me because you know, and so do they," she explains, causing him to smirk. "__T__hat I could rip your balls off if I'm pissed, thus killing all your gametes."_

"_Anyway, the five minutes are up." He pushes the lid of the laptop close, bends over to put it on the floor. "And you look cute with glasses," he says, pecking her lips before she removes her glasses and sets them on the bedside table._

"_Thank you. I haven't needed them in years. It feels a bit weird to wear them again."_

_He pats his pillow, lies down onto his back. "Stop working for good and you won't even consider needing them again. You're too tired, Cuddy."_

"_That's why you're gonna read me a story!" she exclaims with a wide smile, grabbing a book from her drawer. He glances at the cover as she hands it to him._

"_Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close," he reads out loud before flipping through the pages, finding her bookmark on page thirty-five._

"_Damn, Offspring's room is not ready yet," she lets out, out of the blue. She doesn't even know how the thought managed to cross her mind at this moment._

"_What?"_

"_The walls aren't even painted."_

_He sighs, "And you want to choose the __color__ of the walls right now."_

_Pursing her lips shyly, she nods._

"_Okay," he agrees. "Since it's gonna be a boy, let's paint them blue."_

"_Pink," she protests. "Offspring is a girl!"_

"_A boy!"_

"_A girl!"_

"_Okay, mix of the two. Purple."_

"_That's scary for a newborn."_

"_Seriously? Red."_

"_Same. Don't suggest bright __colors__!"_

"_White."_

"_Are you kidding? Too empty."_

"_Black."_

"_No way."_

"_Blue."_

"_I said no."_

"_It was worth the try. Yellow."_

_A hint of sadness echoes in her voice as she replies two seconds later. "It was Joy's room."_

"_You can't keep declining the whole rainbow."_

"_You can't keep suggesting __colors__ I don't want."_

"_Grey."_

"_What did I tell you? Too drab."_

"_How can I know what you want? If you know what you want just say it! Orange." She seems to hesitate, snuggling in the covers as if it could help her think. "Or green," he urges._

"_Dammit, I can't choose between these two."_

"_Pick blue then."_

"_Shut up!" she laughs, before taking an __another __moment to think about it. He opens the novel on page thirty-five._

"_Blue it is then."_

"_Certainly not!"_

"_'Googolplex'," he starts reading._

"_Wait."_

_Cuddy huddles against his torso, seeking his warmth and comfort. He thinks to himself that the feeling of her body spooning his own is one of the best ever._

"_Okay," she says once she is ready, cuddled up with her head resting on his shoulder. "Go ahead."_

"_'Googolplex'," he starts again. "'As for the bracelet Mom wore to the funeral, what I did was I converted Dad's last voice message into Morse code, and I used...'"_

_He reads in a calm voice and a quiet tone, taking his time to decipher each word and pronounce them smoothly. No wonder he's Rachel's favourite storyteller. His reassuring and low-pitched voice lulls Cuddy into sleep and, two pages later, he discovers she has already fallen asleep._

"_'...telling everyone to get to Central Park to put sandbags around the reservoir'," he finishes the sentence, and places the bookmark between page thirty-eight and page thirty-nine before closing the book. He looks down at her for a moment, with a pure look of adoration on his face. He cannot fight the urge to caress her face with his fingertips. She stirs, unconsciously leans into his touch, but does not awake._

"_Good night, Cuddy." With a smile on his lips, he switches off the light and prepares to drift to sleep._

* * *

><p><em>TBC...<br>_


	31. Chapter 30

_Hello guys! Nope, I'm not dead yet. Sorry it took me so long to update the story. School, you know... Anyway, the summer holidays are in two weeks. I still have to study in the meantime, but don't worry, you'll get plenty of updates afterwards ;)_

_So this is part of the two important storylines I've told you about last time. I got the idea when I passed out from skipping lunch, and that was fourteen months ago. Just so you can realize how slow I am to write that story! lol I'll publish the next chapter as soon as possible (so you can forgive me for the slight cliffhanger coming up), the missing flash-backs are written and added to the story. I'm also working on a post-finale one-shot currently. (I promise I'll publish it within the year!)  
><em>

_And many thanks to IHeartHouseCuddy for correcting this chapter :)_

_Enjoy! And don't forget to leave some reviews, they're always appreciated!  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Thirty<strong>

* * *

><p>The door of the closet shut abruptly, Cuddy mumbled under her breath something that sounded like a curse. Awake with a start, House threw his arm to the other side of the bed, just to make sure Cuddy was still there. He jumped when he felt cold sheets instead of her warm flesh and called her name.<p>

"Sorry," she whispered, standing in the middle of the room. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

He glanced at the clock. Seven a.m.. Then looked up at her. Her hair was tied in a ponytail, she was clad in a dark sweatshirt which belonged to him, and black jogging pants.

"Where ya goin'?" he asked, a bit confused. The lingering remaining of slumber didn't help either.

"Jogging." She walked to him, sat on the edge of the bed to drop a kiss to his lips. "I'll be back before lunch."

"But why so early?"

"I didn't want to bother you and Rachel with that."

He nodded, aware that she had not told him the whole truth. She had tried to go jogging without telling him, because she knew he was frustrated not to be able to practise a sport with her. He would have loved to run a few miles by her side, but his leg prevented him from doing so. It prevented him from doing a lot of things with her... He did not blame her for lying. He would have preferred not to be awakened, to tell the truth. He always felt alone and excluded when she would leave for a jogging without him, no matter how hard he tried to shut out his feelings.

"I should go," she said, kissing him once more. "See ya."

"Okay. Be careful." She acquiesced and, as she was stepping out of the room, he added, "Don't push yourself too hard!"

He heard her agreeing before the entry door slammed shut. Cocking an eyebrow for a second, he then fell back onto the mattress. With her self-hurting behaviour, he was more watchful than ever, but he could trust her. She was doing fine. She seemed to. He tried to shut out the bad feeling that was tickling his mind and got on his feet to take a shower. He wakened Rachel for school at the usual time, gave her a hug like every morning, bathed her, helped her choose her clothes, and took her to the kitchen to have breakfast.

"So your grandma is picking you up at school tonight," he said, grabbing the pack of chocolate corn flakes. "It's Friday." He poured her a bowl of cereals and did the same for himself. "Want some milk?"

"Yeah. When will I see Momma?" she asked.

"Tomorrow, except if she comes back from her jogging before we leave for school."

The kid nodded with a disappointed pout. House glanced down at the sink, and noticed that Cuddy's red mug was not there. She would always leave it in the sink after breakfast. He checked the dishwasher. Empty. No mug, no bowl, no plate. When he took a look into the trash and did not see any packaging of anything, the hunch that had been bugging his mind grew into a conviction. She had not eaten before leaving for a run.

"Hows?" Rachel called out.

"Yeah," he smiled. The kid did not need to be involved to that.

"Come have breakfast with me!" He limped to the table and took a seat in front of her.

"So, what are you going to do at school today?" he asked, starting on a casual conversation. "Did your teacher plan on doing something?"

The conversation went on and Rachel forgot to ask House why he looked so anxious.

When he came back from school, his first reflex was to grab his cell, which he had left in the bedroom. Sitting on the bed, coat and shoes still on, he dialled her number with shaky fingers. His heart skipped a beat when he heard Cuddy's BlackBerry vibrate on her bedside table.

"Dammit," he cursed between his teeth. His stomach twisted with anguish, but he kept on thinking rationally about the situation. She was not suicidal. If she felt hungry, she would get something to eat. Maybe she had skipped breakfast because she was feeling nauseous or something. He hid his face in his hands and sighed loudly. She had said, two hours earlier, that she would be back before lunch. It was the first time she ran in months, she has been feeling quite sleepy lately, therefore she would feel tired quickly and head back home early.

Wouldn't she?

* * *

><p>Cuddy had been running for twenty minutes, and she could already feel her body screaming for food. Her stomach was killing her, but it wouldn't last, she told herself. Soon, she would just feel nauseous and it would be easier to keep going. She picked up pace, the effort intensifying. That way, she would lose her extra pounds faster, and would stop remembering Mary every time she glanced at herself in a mirror. Her pregnancy would become nothing but a faraway memory.<p>

Even though her limbs were feeling weak, she kept on running, fists clenched. She considered taking a break, but decided she could not afford it, shutting out the warning signals her body kept sending. She could do it, dammit!

It was going to work perfectly. Her feet hit harder the beige tiles set on the grass. At this time of the day, kids were at school, adults were at work. The suburban houses aligned on the streets were empty. Nobody to bother her.

Minutes later, her palms were sweaty, her head was spinning. She did not feel any starvation at all anymore. She felt great, exhilarated, like she was floating, but it did not last long. All of a sudden, bright white lights whirled in front of her eyes for a second or two, and when she lifted her eyelids again, she was lying on the floor. Another jogger, a man in his mid-thirties with dark short hair and light green eyes, was holding her feet up while taking her pulse on her wrist.

"It's okay Ma'am, you just fainted," he said. "How are you feeling? You want me to get you something to drink or eat?"

She did not register the information quite well, not immediately. She heard him speak distinctly, but it took her a moment to understand.

"Thanks, but I'm okay," she refused in a weak voice. She frowned when she saw the man staring at her face with a shocked look in his eyes.

"My God, you're bleeding," he gasped, leaving her feet alone to press a handkerchief, which he had just pulled out from his pocket, against the side of her face. "Your head must have hit the pavement. I'm calling an ambulance."

"No, don't," she protested as he grabbed his phone.

"We need to take care of that wound."

"Really, I feel good. I'm just gonna go back home." She attempted to straighten up, but her muscles gave up and she fell back to the floor. Once the man had ended his call, he helped her sit up with her back leaning against a tree.

"What's your name?" he asked as they were waiting for the paramedics, the man still pressing the piece of fabric on her temple.

"Lisa."

"I'm Pete."

"Nice to meet you, Pete."

He handed her his phone, "If you wanna call someone..."

She briefly glanced down at it. She would end up in the ER, they would take care of the wound, give her something to eat, and she would call a cab back home and be at her place before lunch, as she had told House. No need to let him know. She shook her head, and winced in pain.

"Don't try to move your head or neck, Liz," Pete said. She brought her hand to her face, and saw blood covering her fingers when she drew it back.

"Oh, fuck," she whined. Her trip to the ER would take more time than she had planned.

"Don't worry, you're still conscious," he reassured her. "It mustn't be that serious."

"'You a doctor?" she asked. She did not mean to rebuff him, he was kind to help her. She was simply curious.

"No, but I took first-aid classes. Thought it might come in handy. I'm a librarian. You?"

"I'm the Dean of Medicine at Plainsboro."

"Wow."

"_Was_," she corrected herself. "I took some time off but hopefully I'll get my job back soon. It can be really stressful sometimes, but I love it." A moment of silence passed by. "Sorry, I don't know why I'm telling you this..."

"It's alright," Pete smiled as she cautiously turned to him, mindful of her throbbing head. "I'll give you my number if you want to chat a bit, 'kay?"

She smiled back. "You're a good person, Pete."

"Thanks."

He caught a glimpse of an ambulance driving towards them, waved at it and let Cuddy press the handkerchief on the wound by herself. Two paramedics jumped out of the vehicle, one of them, with freckles on his cheeks and cute blue eyes, grabbed his small penlight to test her consciousness.

"How 'you feeling?" he asked first.

She dismissed him gently, keeping her eyes shut to avoid the bright glow of the lamp. "Fine, don't bother. It's just a bleeding."

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"I was jogging and I teetered over, that's all."

"I saw it all," Pete intervened. "She fainted."

If she had not been polite, and most of all grateful to him for taking care of her so nicely, she would have glared at him as if trying to rip his head off with her eyes.

"Well there's a difference between falling over and falling unconscious," Freckles said.

"It's not a big deal, I haven't practised a sport in a while. I guess my body wasn't prepared for..." All of a sudden, her face turned ashen, she closed her eyes convulsively, and gulped several times, trying to ease the sudden urge to vomit. "Damn it," she soughed, breathless, her heart pounding. Pete laid a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"'You doctor Cuddy?" the other paramedic asked, finally recognizing her.

She sighed, thinking her situation could not have been worse. If employees from her hospital rescued her from a silly hypoglycaemia, all of their colleagues would know about it, Wilson would know and, sooner or later, so would House. "Yeah."

"Well, we'll take you back to Plainsboro."

"I'd rather prefer Princeton General."

"Plainsboro's the closest."

"Look, it's not an emergency. Just stitch this up, I'll go back home and that's it," she insisted.

"We don't want to take any risk. Bring a stretcher, will ya?" he asked, turning to his co-worker. Freckles nodded and walked back to the ambulance.

"Oh you've got to be kidding," Cuddy protested. "I can walk."

"With suspected head trauma? Don't think so."

She rolled her eyes. Pete watched the whole scene wordlessly. "I don't have a head trauma! I'm a doctor, I know what a head trauma feels like!"

However, Cuddy tried to stand up on her own, and quickly sat back to the floor as she felt her head spinning, reaching out for anything to grab. Pete gave her his hand.

"Sure, head trauma doesn't feel like loss of balance and nausea," the paramedic said.

"They're symptoms of hypoglycemia as well!" she replied.

"Did you have anything to eat before you left?" Freckles asked, setting the stretcher down onto the ground.

She let a few seconds pass by, before she dared answer. "No."

"You mean you left for a jogging with an empty stomach?"

"Yeah."

Pete helped her lie down onto the stretcher. They took her into the ambulance, the librarian sitting by her side.

"You don't have to be here, Pete," she said. "You must have more important stuff to take care of."

"I'm concerned for you," he replied as Freckles took her hand to put a catheter underneath her flesh and into a vein, hanging a glucose bag before injecting it to her intravenously. "I want to make sure you're okay."

She smiled faintly.

The doors closed and, without a word, they drove to Princeton Plainsboro.

* * *

><p>Wilson saw a man pacing around in front of the door to the exam room where Cuddy was getting her wound cleaned and stitched, and drew closer to him.<p>

"Hi. Are you Pete?"

"Yeah. That's me."

He offered his hand and Pete shook it. "I'm doctor James Wilson, interim head administrator of this hospital."

"So, you're Lisa's deputy, right?"

"Exactly," he confirmed. "Just temporarily. You seem to know her quite well."

"I've just met her actually," the librarian clarified. "I saw her collapse and I called an ambulance, that's all."

Wilson nodded with a grateful smile. "I'd like to thank you for that. Lisa is a close friend of mine, I'm glad to know she could count on you."

"Well, you're welcome."

Eventually, the interim dean decided to ask the question that was tickling him. "Tell me, was there a... Grumpy man with a cane, with her?"

"Her boyfriend?" Wilson cocked a surprised eyebrow. "I figured," Pete explained. "Her sweatshirt too large for her. No, she was alone."

The doctor shook his head yes again.

House had not called him back for help since the last time they had met. It would have been an unlikely move from the diagnostician, Wilson knew that, but he had seemed so desperate and afflicted that he had expected House to reach him. As he had received no call, he concluded that Cuddy had gotten better in the meantime. But, if she had gone jogging alone, and House was not already around her whereas she had been admitted into the ER for suspected head trauma and hypoglycaemia, then he had no idea what had happened to her. Which could only mean she had just relapsed.

She did not have a head trauma, although she needed to have her consciousness checked every two hours, but one of the paramedics reported her saying she had not eaten anything before going jogging. It gave him cause for concern.

"Thank you again for your help," he said to Pete, who held him back before Wilson had time to leave.

"Wait." He looked around and picked a pen and a piece of paper from the nurses' station. "I need to go now, could you please give this to Lisa?" He handed him the paper, where he had written down his name and his phone number.

"Sure. I will."

Once Pete had walked away, Wilson pondered about the decision he had to make, and grabbed his phone.

House was still sitting on the bed, face buried in his palms, when he heard his cell phone ring. He picked it up immediately, before even checking the caller's ID.

"Cuddy? 's'that you?"

"Hum, no, this is Wilson, but we've just admitted her into the ER and–"

"On my way," he said before hanging up, jumped to his feet and rushed to the entry door, picking up Cuddy's car keys on his way out.

The journey to Plainsboro seemed to take forever, even though he reached the hospital in only ten minutes. He was dying to see Cuddy. What the hell had she done to end up in the hospital? Ignoring his leg, he rushed to the dean's office, but caught a glimpse of the interim dean in the clinic.

"How is she?" he asked when he had finally met Wilson.

"Hey. She arrived in the ER half an hour ago for fainting from–"

"How is she?" he interrupted him a bit harshly. Nothing else in the world mattered. "I want to see her."

Wilson nodded towards the lifts. House followed him. "She's okay House, don't worry. She's asleep right now, we had to sedate her."

"What? Why?" he asked, pushing the call button.

"She was insisting on going back home, and I thought she would get... Violent, eventually. I just didn't want to take any chance." The doors slid open, they stepped into the elevator, and the dean pressed the button to the second floor. "She fainted from hypoglycemia, and is still on glucose in IV. She also bled from her head, but no sign of head trauma. Apparently her head hit the pavement when she fell over. We had to stitch the wound."

House nodded, staring at his shoes. It was less serious than what he had feared, after all.

"So you let her go jogging while she hadn't had breakfast?" Wilson insisted.

"I was sleeping when she decided to go, damn it!" he burst out. "You think I don't feel guilty enough?"

Wilson pursed his lips. They walked in silence to her room, stopped in front of the sliding doors. House stared at her sound asleep, clad in a light green hospital gown, tucked in the sheet. An oximeter on her finger was linked to a monitor, and a catheter was inserted into her arm. She looked frail, and so vulnerable.

"She's not getting better, is she?" Wilson asked in a melancholy tone. House merely shook his head, watching her helplessly. He should have been able to prevent her from hurting herself again. His failures seemed to pile up. For a moment, he wondered if he was still able to look after her.

His mind was racing. He limped to the end of the corridor and then back to his friend, lost in his thoughts. He needed to take some distance from Cuddy to make his decision, like he always did with his patients. If his feelings were involved, he would not make the right choice.

"I can't take her back home. Not yet," he said, rubbing his forehead. Wilson watched him wordlessly with a concerned pout. Casting one more glance at her, House sighed deeply. She was going to hate him, but he had no other option. "Okay, here's what we're gonna do..."

* * *

><p><em>TBC...<em>


	32. Chapter 31

_Hellooooow! One week left till the holidays! Teachers too lazy to correct tests in a rush, hence no more homework! PARTY TIME! *runs around the house like mad*_

_Hum, anyway, so here's a new chapter. Sorry I could not include the sequel to the previous chapter, it would have been waaay too long. But, as I said above, summer holidays are coming up very, very soon, so I'll have more time to write, and chapter thirty-two will be online shortly :) About my post-finale one-shot, I'm still working on it. Almost done. Will upload it soon as well.  
><em>

_Thank you guys for your adorable reviews! Made my day as usual :) And thanks to IHeartHouseCuddy for taking a look at this chapter.  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Thirty-One<strong>_  
><em>

* * *

><p>"<em>Gosh, this meeting is lasting for ages," Cuddy thinks to herself, discretely checking on her wrist watch for the umpteenth time. She is thirty minutes late for her lunch date with House. Considering how he has been overprotecting and overly taking care of her lately, she is quite surprised he has not barged in the room yet to pick her up so she can have a decent meal.<em>

"_Sure, I'll fill them in before tomorrow morning," she hears herself answering, probably to some member of the board demanding some paperwork to be done. She has no clue what they are talking about, but it must be written down in her agenda. But what if it isn't? What if her computer crashes? What if she runs out of time? There, she feels it; stress begins to creep in her system, spreading from the heap of anxiety growing in her stomach. She has been awfully distracted by her baby lately, she is well aware of it. Offspring kicked her for the first time one week ago. It has woken her in the middle of the night, and she has torn House out of slumber so he could lie his palm on her womb and feel the tiny foot through her flesh. She will never forget the smile that has brightened up his face at that moment. They remained awake all night long, waiting for Offspring to kick again. She was exhausted when she got up, but it was worth it._

_What if this distraction causes her to make a mistake? What is she gets fired? Maybe she is not capable of working anymore. Dammit, of course she is! She is just freaking out right now!_

_Her bladder is ready to explode, she is starving, her head is throbbing. Focusing is impossible. And that goddamn meeting just won't end!_

_At last, everybody stands up. She does so with relief, trying to escape as quickly as possible without it being too obvious. Suddenly, she cannot stand playing hide and seek anymore. She is sick of wearing heels and forcing herself not to waddle so no one will suspect a pregnancy. She is sick of not being able to caress her womb whenever she feels the urge or rub the small of her back to ease her backache. She is sick of hiding her belly and spending so much time in the hospital, away from her family._

_What if she does not get to the bathroom in time? What if she wets herself in front of everyone? She stops walking abruptly, as a blur invades her vision. She blinks several times, but it won't go away._

"_Doctor Cuddy," she hears a woman call out, whose voice she can't recognize. "Are you alright?"_

"_Yeah." She winces in pain and massages her forehead, trying to ease the headache away. Toilets. Quickly. She has to reach the toilets. As soon as possible. "No." She feels strangely weak. She wants to cry her heart out, because she does not feel fine, because she wants to say 'fuck it' and just leave and drop everything she is doing, because she will lose her baby and life is so fucking unfair. She wants House to wrap his strong arms around her and take her far, far away from here. "I need to see House..." She craves it. She craves him._

_She mumbles faintly his name again before she collapses to the ground and falls unconscious._

_House has been pacing around her office for half an hour. He takes a look at his watch again. She has been very clear about her meeting with the board being extremely important, and has insisted about him not interrupting for any reason. "But dammit," he thinks. "She must be starving." _

_His pager beeps all of a sudden, making him jump. He takes a quick look at the message and, as soon as he has read it, almost runs to the lifts, careless of his leg. He has been fearing it for months, and here it is. He hits the button to the second floor; the administration and its meeting rooms. Discovering a tiny crowd a few feet away as the doors slide open, he immediately limps closer to it. Even though he has expected it, the sight of Cuddy lying motionless on the floor causes a chill of terror to run up his spine. People let him go through when he arrives, he kneels down beside her and feels her neck right away, searching a pulse which he finds with no difficulty. Regular, fast but slowing down. Glancing at her, he notices no sign of internal bleeding, nor a pool of blood between her thighs. He sighs with relief. It is nothing more than a fainting._

"_What the hell are you waiting for?" he asks – or rather yells at – the crowd. "Get a gurney! And grab something from the cafeteria!" Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a man hurrying towards the intensive care unit, where he will find a nurse. "What happened to her?"_

"_She didn't seem to feel very well during the meeting," someone – House does not bother to know who – answers. "I saw her faint when we walked out."_

_He nods, his mind already busy figuring out what it could be. "Did she complain about abdominal pain? Headache? Blurred vision?"_

"_I don't... I don't know."_

"_Of course you don't," he mumbles. Unconsciously, he cups her belly and caresses it gently, which does not go unnoticed. At last, two nurses and a collapsible stretcher appear. They hoist Cuddy up onto the narrow bed, and take her to the emergency room._

_The crowd of administrators just stare, astonished. Why would he touch her belly like that? Alright, they are dating, he is worried, but it seems pretty suspicious. Besides, her stomach seems much rounder than usual, doesn't it?_

* * *

><p><em>Cuddy purrs as she sails back into consciousness, free from her headache and blurry vision, but still feeling weak. She blinks, turns to House sitting by her side.<em>

"_Hey," he whispers, caressing gently her forehead._

"_Is the baby okay?"she asks, feeling the belt of the foetal monitor wrapped around her womb when she reaches to cup her belly._

_He motions towards the screens linked to the belt and her own oximeter, one of them indicating one hundred and forty-two beats per minute. "Heartbeat's fine. No uterine contractions. Westhall will be there at any moment with a ultrasound scanner." She nods, sighs with relief. "Any abdominal pain?"_

"_Nope."_

"_Good. We don't know why you fainted yet," he carries on. "I'm thinking hypertension. Or hypoglycemia." _

"_I wasn't that hungry." Her stomach rumbles loudly right at this moment. _

_House chuckles, handing her a paper bag from the cafeteria. "I got you this." _

_She glances inside the package, and pulls out a vegetarian burger. She smiles. "Thanks." But before biting into it, she frowns. Her bladder feels empty. "I didn't piss my pants, did I?"_

_He shakes his head._

"_Then why..." She lifts the sheet, discovering that she is wearing a hospital gown, and that a catheter is crawling from in between her legs to the edge of the bed. "How long was I unconscious?" she asks, taking a bite of her burger._

"_Oh, not long. I took you to the ER but they were running out of beds, so we ended up in this room and you woke up right after. Five minutes at most." She acquiesces. "We'll have to pull the catheter out of your urethra for the ultrasound. And you should drink, too." He lies a bottle of water on the overbed table._

"_I know." She looks up at him with a grateful smile. House bends over and presses his lips to hers. _

"_Dammit, you scared me."_

"_I'm sorry."_

_He cannot resist anymore and wraps his arms around her, burying his nose in her raven hair. She embraces him back. "Now here's what you're gonna do," he starts. "You're going to stop overworking like you do, and..."_

_They are interrupted by the door sliding open. Westhall walks in, pushing a ultrasound machine. "Oh, sorry!"he apologizes, seeing them huddled together. "I didn't mean to interrupt. Be right back." He smiles kindly, leaves the machine alone and gets out of the room, closing the door and disappearing behind the closed blinds. House gets up to stand at the end of Cuddy's bed._

"_So, you're going to stop overworking," he continues, lifting the sheet to reveal her body. "And take some time off."_

_She rolls her eyes and sits up. "I'm not overworking."_

_House grabs a pair of scissors, cuts the plastic tube where it joins the main catheter. "Right, because spending ten hours a day, five or six times a week, administrating a hospital is not overworking at all."_

_As he gently pulls the catheter out, she hisses with unease. "I can handle it. I've been handling it perfectly for ten years."_

"_Except that you're six months pregnant now." _

_She takes a long sip of her water and bites into her burger, bringing the sheet up to her lower stomach. "I've got another important meeting with possible donors next week," she insists. "I can't miss it."_

"_Yes, you can." House opens the door, and waits for Westhall to come in._

"_Hello, you two," he greets, walking in with a folding stool tucked under his arm. He settles on Cuddy's right, while House takes a seat to her left. "You pretty scared us, doctor Cuddy."_

"_Sorry," she smiles kindly at him. "Won't happen again."_

"_Well, that's not what you were saying one minute ago," House comments. She glares at him._

_Westhall intervenes, "Alright then, we'll start with your blood pressure." _

_He pulls out a sphygmomanometer from a pocket of his lab coat, wraps the cuff around his patient's upper arm. "I'll take your urine bag as a sample, so I can look for protein and all that." He tucks the earpieces of his stethoscope into his ears, lies its diaphragm below the cuff, which he fully inflated. He pays attention to her heartbeats and the dial of the blood pressure meter. _

"_Your blood pressure is one hundred and forty-nine over ninety-eight," he reads. "That is not alright at all."_

_She sighs._

"_Stage one hypertension," House says._

"_Yeah, I know," Cuddy snaps back._

"_See, I told you were overwork–"_

"_Shut up."_

"_Hypertension isn't always caused by stress," the obstetrician adds. _

"_In Cuddy's case, it's quite obvious," House replies._

"_But given her history..."_

_Cuddy cuts him off, "What history? I don't know why I miscarried five years ago."_

"_You were stressed," House answers._

"_For God's sake, House! Just shut up!"_

"_But you still miscarried. It could be preeclampsia. Any persistent severe headache, abdominal pain?" the older doctor asks. She shakes her head no. "Alright, then. It must be caused by stress. Doctor House is right."_

_Westhall removes the cuff, as well as the external monitor wrapped around her womb. Cuddy lies back."So you did faint from hypertension," House speaks up. "I swear you're not coming back to the hospital until you deliver."_

_She rolls her eyes, barely realizing that her doctor is applying some gel on her stomach. "I just fainted, it's not a big deal."_

"_You have hypertension! You and Offspring could die! Don't you get it?"_

"_It's my body, House!" she answers back, her tone getting louder as she loses her temper. "I know my limits and believe me, I can keep working for one week or two!"_

"_It may be your body, but it's still our kid!" They don't even notice that Westhall, unflinching, has turned on the ultrasound machine and is now rubbing the abdominal probe against her skin. "Sometimes, I even wonder if you don't actually want to lose it."_

"_How can you say such a–" she yells, before Westhall interrupts her._

"_Want to hear your baby's heartbeat?" _

_She turns to him, and nods. A second later, they hear fast, regular beats echoing through the room, sounding like they are pulsating into water. On the verge of tears, Cuddy closes her eyes and, cupping her belly, focuses on her baby's heart. It is the most beautiful melody she has ever heard. On the other hand, House realises that his own heart is trying to copy and catch up Offspring's heartbeat. And then it strikes him. This baby they're having, growing in Cuddy's womb, is real. It's alive. Its heart beats. It moves and kicks Mommy's tummy. In a few months, it will see the daylight. In a few years, he will teach it to take a step or tie its shoes or read or ride a bike. He refuses to lose it, to ever let go of it. He will do whatever it will take to protect his child. _

_He gently takes his woman's hand in his own. She opens her watery eyes and looks up at him, squeezing his hand._

"_I'm so stupid," she whispers, a tear rolling down her cheek._

"_Oh, yes, you are," he smiles. As she smiles back, he bends over to drop a tender kiss to her lips. They turn to the monitor, watch with amazement their foetus swim in its cradle, its heart still beating out loud. _

_Westhall captures some pictures and, a few minutes later, after demonstrating that the foetus is developing normally, glance up at the parents and ask with an excited grin, "Want to know the gender, too?" They nod. The doctor freezes the image and points at the screen, "Alright then, as you can see here..."_

"_Don't bother to explain, just tell us," House urges, scanning the screen to try and find out by himself._

_Westhall's smile widens. "It's a girl."_

_House curses between his teeth, however he cannot help grinning. Cuddy lets out a victorious laugh, "Told you so!"_

"_No way!" Then, turning to Westhall, "Can I take a closer look?" He goes round the bed, examines the screen closely. "This, Cuddy, is a penis," he says, pointing at the image._

"_No, it's not," she smiles. "You'll be living with three girls, House, get over it."_

_He sits back on the bed beside her, faking an annoyed sigh. "I hope you didn't make any bets with Wilson or your team," Westhall chuckles._

"_Nah, I bet only when I'm sure of winning."_

_Cuddy glances down at her round belly with a beam. "So, you're a girl." She giggles. "Your dad is sooo going to suffer. Poor him."_

"_Whatever," he shrugs._

"_You're not too disappointed?"_

"_Disappointed, why? I'm glad it's human," he says. "Considering your ass, it could have been a baby whale." Westhall laughs._

"_Seriously," she insists._

_He smiles, reaches out to lie a hand on her stomach. "Of course not."_

_Wilson opens the door all of a sudden and walks in, breathless. "Oh, my God," he lets out, rushing to Cuddy's bedside. "You okay?"_

"_Yeah, don't worry," she smiles. "The baby's fine and so am I."_

"_Oh, Jimmy, look at you, being so panicky," House comments. "You're so cute!"_

"_Like you weren't worried yourself!" he chuckles._

"_See this gorgeous lady they're having?" Westhall interrupts, motioning towards the screen. _

_Wilson lets his jaw drop in surprise, then smiles at the parents. "You're having a girl? Congratulations!" He embraces Cuddy and turns to House, who shakes his head no. _

"_There's no way you're hugging me." He gives him a high five instead. Westhall quits rubbing the probe on the dean's stomach and hands her a few paper towels. Seeing this concerned pout on his friend's face, House asks,"You didn't come over to check up on her, did you?"_

"_Well, I just wanted to let you know that on my way to your room, I've heard some nurses chatting about you being pregnant," the oncologist admits. "Your fainting made quite a fuss."_

_She sighs loudly. "Oh God. They all know." They watch her falling back on her pillow, burying her face in her hands. She ponders about the best choice to make for a few moments. "Better make a public announcement before it spreads like wildfire," she decides, bracing herself to stand up._

"_Well certainly not now," House stops her, gently pushing her back to bed. "You rest this afternoon, and we'll see that tonight."_

_She protests, "You don't get to–"_

"_Oh and no more fights," Westhall cuts them off. Wilson nods. "It elevates your BP too much."_

"_That's going to be difficult," the diagnostician comments._

"_Just shut up and it will be fine," she replies._

"_What! Sometimes I don't even need to say one single word for you to get mad!"_

"_That's not true! And we don't have fights anyway."_

"_Interesting. You deny it," House says._

"_We don't fight, we just disagree!"_

"_Oh please, we had a fight two weeks ago and you kicked me out!"_

"_You kicked yourself out!"_

"_You are impossible..." Wilson sighs. "Anyway, Lisa," he continues, lying his hand on her shoulder. "You must know that you have all my support."_

_Westhall does the same with her right shoulder. "Mine, too."_

_House stares at her for a second, and sets his hand on her breast. "Mine, too." _

_She giggles, and grins. "Thank you."_

_Westhall and Wilson go back to work eventually, and leave the couple alone. House rushes to the cafeteria to grab a sandwich and comes back to Cuddy's room, where they have lunch together. Then they huddle together on the narrow hospital bed, House cupping her womb and lying his head on her shoulder, while Cuddy wraps an arm around him, and they take a nap until her daughter kicking her wakes her up around four p.m.. House's eyes jolt open, as he feels the kick under his palm._

"_I think Offspring is claiming her fifteen minutes of fame," he says._

_Cuddy sighs with melancholy. "I'm gonna miss my hospital."_

"_I know."_

"_But it's worth it." She turns to him with a smile. He smiles back, cranes his neck so as to kiss her._

"_I like hearing you say that." He kisses her softly. "How are you feeling?"_

"_Pretty good. I could use a snack, though. Like a chocolate bun. Or a piece of apple pie. Or both." She licks her lips._

"_Okay, I'll grab you that from the cafeteria. I'm gonna fetch your clothes."_

_Before he has time to get up, she grabs the collar of his shirt and tugs at it. "Stay." She buries her face in her neck, and lets a few minutes pass by. "What are you going to do, after I've left?"_

"_Well, I'm going to take some time off too and look after you twenty-four hours a day. You didn't think you would get rid of me so easily, did you?" She chuckles._

"_What if you have a case?" she asks, raising her head to look into his eyes. She knows medical mysteries are important to him – hell, they're an obsession – and they might tear him away from her sometimes._

"_My lackeys can think on their own, I've taught them to," he says. "Although, if they half-kill the patient without getting a diagnosis, I might spend half a day at the hospital from time to time." She nods. "So, who's going to be the new boss?"_

"_I don't know," she sighs. "Since you won't be working, I don't have to choose someone who will dare say no to you. Anyway, I've thought about Foreman."_

"_Not a good idea. He loves power too much."_

_She thinks about it."You're right. He won't give me my job back."_

"_Which narrows your choice to your friends."_

"_Westhall's too old," she eliminates. "And he would be too busy for my weekly consultations. If you had decided to stay, I wouldn't have given you my job either. The hospital would blow up within the day."_

"_Wow. You're optimistic. I'd say within the hour." They laugh. Then an epiphany strikes her._

"_Wilson," she lets out. _

_He frowns, "Seriously? Why?"_

"_Why not? Everybody likes him, and he's good at talking with people."_

"_He's too nice. He won't fire employees who need to be fired," he enumerates. "He'll be walked all over!"_

"_He runs a department," she replies. "He knows what he's dealing with."_

"_Well, it's your choice after all." House stands up, limps closer to the dresser._

"_You don't think I'm making the right one?" she asks, worried. At the sight of her anxious pout, he walks back to her._

"_Can you think of someone who fits better?" She ponders about it, then shakes her head. "See? Wilson's the best."_

_She acquiesces. "You're right."_

"_I'm always right."_

"_Yeah, you said Offspring would be a boy."_

"_That's the exception which proves the rule." _

_She chuckles, cranes her neck to kiss him tenderly."Yeah, right." _

"_Let me get your clothes, lady."_

_She raises a finger. "Chocolate bun and apple pie first!"_

"_Of course, mistress," he smiles, turning around towards the sliding door. "BRB." He then disappears into the corridor to fetch her snack._

* * *

><p><em>The couple dropped by human resources to let them know about Cuddy's pregnancy, before she makes a public announcement. The parents-to-be were not really congratulated, but at least, the dean obtained six months off, and more if need be. Afterwards, they met Wilson in his office. The oncologist accepted with enthusiasm to be Cuddy's deputy for the months ahead. He knows it will be tough, but he is happy to help his friend.<em>

_She is now standing on the stage, clutching the lectern with all her might. Every head of department, except House who is hiding in the backstage, along with most of the doctors are gathered in the room. She waits for everybody to take a seat and, once they are all settled, turns her head to glance at House one last time. He nods, giving her some strength. She clears her throat._

"_Good afternoon doctors," she greets, her voice shakier than she would like it to be. "Sorry to disturb you at that time of the day, this announcement will be very quick." She takes a deep breath to gather her courage before carrying on. "I will be away from the hospital for a few months, due to my pregnancy." _

_Her voice slightly trails off at the end of the sentence. While Westhall and Wilson rise from the first row to applaud loudly, causing her to chuckle, and most of the doctors in the room clap their hands, few of them merely leave. But she does not let it get to her. She doesn't give a damn. She is going to have a baby. House's baby. She's happy._

"_Doctor James Wilson, head of oncology, will take up my post in the meantime. If any further question, or meeting that needs to be rescheduled, please address to him. Thank you for your attention."_

_One last gaze across the room, and she turns around, walking towards House. He holds out his hand to her, which she takes, and pulls her into a hug. She sobs slightly, nuzzling his shoulder._

"_God, I'm really going to miss it."_

"_I'll make you forget," he promises, causing her to smile. "Let's go."_

_House takes her hand, gently leading her into the corridor. After they dropped by his office so he cold pick up his coat and backpack, she follows him into her workroom, where she puts her laptop into her bag, and adds a few folders._

"_Oh, no," he whines, pulling the papers out to set them back on the desk. "What part of 'taking six months off' didn't you understand?"_

"_Wilson is coming over for dinner tonight," she replies, sliding the files back in her briefcase. "I have to explain a few things to him about the job, hence the files."_

"_Wait, if he has dinner at our place, does that mean I have to cook?"_

_She smiles as he refers her house as _theirs_, unexpectedly. "You want me to cook?"_

"_God, no." They smile. He hands her her coat. After she slipped it on, she grabs her bag and walks to the exit. Before switching off the lights and locking the door, she casts one last, lingering look across the room. With watery eyes, she turns around. That's when a crowd of about thirty people, doctors and mostly nurses, clap their hands, and congratulate the parents-to-be. While the diagnostician holds back a sigh, Cuddy takes her time to thank, shake hands and sometimes hug, each and every one of them. On the verge of tears but with a grin on her lips, she walks out of her hospital, holding firmly House's hand._

* * *

><p><em>TBC...<br>_


	33. Chapter 32

_Hello everyone! First of all, I am absolutely sorry for taking so much time to upload the story. I got a bit overwhelmed by the holidays, lazying around all day and going to bed at 4 am... So it turns out I haven't written much apart from the following chapter, which I will post within three days without fail (you'll see why at the end of the chapter), but I can't leave you guys hanging like that. It shouldn't be an issue though, I'll probably be able to speed up._

_Anyway, so this one picks up right after the 30th chapter; Cuddy faints, ends up in the hospital, and House braces himself to make a mysterious decision.  
><em>

_Thank you guys for the reviews you left last time! I've noticed they were decreasing a bit, though (but don't worry, they still make my day ;)). If some of you are still reading, please let me know. Also, many thanks to IHeartHouseCuddy for correcting this chapter :)  
>FF also changed the review system; apparently if you're not logged in, you can only sign as 'guest'. Well, it would be very nice if you could leave your name. I love coming across the same persons every time, so please don't take that away from me :)<br>_

_Also, I've posted the post-finale one-shot I told you about. Please check it out if you've missed it ;)  
><em>

_Enjoy! See you in three days.  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>C<strong>**hapter Thirty-Two**_  
><em>

* * *

><p>When Cuddy drifted back into consciousness, she looked around for a few seconds, puzzled. She remembered Wilson pushing the wheeled bed from the emergency ward to that room, her insisting on going back home and him refusing. It took her a moment to recollect her memories and recall he had sedated her. She sighed and turned to the right, discovering House sitting on a chair by her side, staring at her with a determined face. She smiled with joy, even though she felt annoyed he had been told about the fact that she had been admitted into the hospital. Moreover, his resigned pout made her imagine nothing good, but she chose to ignore it.<p>

"Hey," she greeted him as she sat up. "Now that you're here," she continued, extricating herself from the sheet and putting her feet down onto the ground. "You can take me back home and..."

"What the fuck were you thinking about?" he cut her off.

She froze. He stood up, and she noticed it seemed much more difficult to him than usual. His knuckles turned white as they were clutching his cane and his thigh trembled when he rose from the chair.

"Lie down," he ordered.

She looked up at him and did not dare stand up to him. She did as she was told, and threaded her way back under the sheet.

"Are you suicidal?" he asked in a blank tone. The question was quite abrupt, but he needed the truth.

She shook her head, "Absolutely not!" He stared into her eyes, probably in search of a proof of her lie. "Damn it, House!" she hissed. "I just wanted to lose some weight! I didn't mean to faint, it was just an accident." His insisting look persisted. "Why won't you believe me?"

"I can't believe you!" he yelled. "You almost ODed at my apartment, and now you go for a run without eating first? Don't tell me you didn't expect to pass out!"

"I didn't!" she denied, shouting as well.

"Yes, you did! I don't know what you're looking for, but..." He rubbed his forehead and continued in a lower voice, "I can't trust you anymore. Not about this." He sighed. She stared at him, on the verge of tears. "Like it or not, you're staying here at the hospital until I come back to pick you up tomorrow morning."

She scoffed. "What is it? My punishment? I'm not eight anymore, House! Look, I am sorry I bothered you with this. I was planning on going back home immediately." She sat up again, ready to go. "As you can see, I am fine, so let's–"

"I need to take a break," he said. "To spend some time away from you."

She froze, utterly shocked. Unable to face her, he looked away as he caught a glimpse of a tear rolling down her cheek.

"Don't," she begged in a weak voice. "Don't leave me. Don't do this to me."

"I'm not leaving you, I'll just be away from you for one day. It does not change anything between us," he promised. "I'll come back tomorrow and we'll head back home, that's all."

She fell back onto the mattress and sobbed. "Don't..."

"I'm just protecting you." He drew closer to the bed and searched into his pocket.

"Most fucking ridiculous thing I've ever heard," she snapped, a hint of anger taking over her tears and astonishment. She turned to him hearing a tinkling sound, saw him pull out a pair of steel handcuffs from his pocket. Her eyes widened in fear.

"You might hurt yourself while I'm not here, so..."

He grabbed her right wrist, causing her to struggle to escape. Rather than risking to hurt her more, he bent over the bed, pinned her free wrist to the mattress and stilled her. The way she had twisted her imprisoned arm to flee could easily cause one of her bones to fracture, considering how weak she was. She turned away.

"I have no issues sedating you again and cuffing your left wrist," he threatened, sincerely hoping he would not have to do so.

She remained immobile. He then secured her right wrist to the side rail and let go of her.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I don't have a choice."

No reaction.

"No one will see you like that. I took care of it. Wilson is staying with you, night included, until tomorrow."

After a few seconds, he gently took her cuffed hand. She clenched her fist, refusing to hold it.

"I wouldn't let anything happen to you, and you know it, Cuddy..."

"Fuck you," she spat.

Being stabbed in the heart would have hurt him less. He had expected such a reaction, and after all it was still better than no reaction at all. Nevertheless, it hurt to hear it for real.

"See you tomorrow," he mumbled before he left. Wilson was waiting behind the closed blinds, and did not utter a word when he saw him. "Take care of her," House said, his voice shaky with sadness and pain.

"I will."

Wilson watched his friend limp away to the lifts, and entered the room, some folders and his laptop tucked under his arm. Cuddy did not turn to him when he settled in the chair and rolled the wheeled overbed table towards him, where he lay his stuff.

"Hello again," he said. No response from her. "Sorry about earlier. I thought it would be better to keep you in the hospital for observation."

She kept on staring at the opposite wall.

He opened a file, read quickly the first page and let out a weary sigh. Budget reports were always such a burden...

Minutes went by. Wilson could hear Cuddy sob from time to time. It was faint, but it was there. She was still crying. He forced himself not to lunge forward and hold his friend tight, since she seemed to refuse to let him approach her. But his caring and sympathetic self eventually won over.

"Don't worry about House," he said in a soothing tone. "He is just trying to protect you. I would have done the same..." He interrupted his speech. She did not move one single muscle. "He doesn't trust you because it scares the crap out of him. He is scared of losing you." Wilson paused. Still no reaction. "This break, it doesn't mean he doesn't love you anymore. He does, believe me. You know him, he always takes a step back when he's afraid. He'll be back tomorrow morning and everything will be the same."

"Stop, Wilson," she managed to finally utter, her voice almost clear from her sobs. "Stop."

She turned to him eventually. Her eyes were red and swollen, her cheeks soaked and gleaming from her dried tears.

"Sorry," he apologized in a low voice.

She shrugged slightly, too exhausted to raise her shoulders completely. Her mouth twisted into an uncontrollable pout as tears dwelt up in her eyes again and she turned away before the wave of tears cascaded down her face. Wilson wisely left her alone. Soon, he could not hear her sobbing anymore; she had finally calmed down and stopped crying. He got on his feet half an hour later to remove the empty intravenous bag, thus had an excuse for observing Cuddy. She had fallen asleep naturally, without sedatives, collapsing only from her own fatigue and the bitterness of her cries. He thought she had a peaceful and refreshing sleep ahead and did his best not to make a sound. As it was lunch time, he discretely opened the sliding door to ask a nurse if she did not mind fetching a salad in the cafeteria for him. Even though Cuddy was sound asleep, Wilson could not leave; he had promised House he would keep an eye on her. The diagnostician suspected she would try to flee or hurt herself, even if she were cuffed to the bed, and feared that any of her employees might catch a glimpse of her in such a pathetic state. She had always cared about her image at work, moreover her being a presumably suicidal patient would not help set up her authority again when she would come back to Princeton Plainsboro as head administrator.

Cuddy woke up in the middle of the afternoon, winced with pain as she stretched out. Wilson was still sitting by her side, but she did not ask him to release her wrist so she could stand up and relieve the tension off of her muscles. She just looked up at him blankly, and yawned. He stopped typing on the keyboard of his laptop and observed her looking around the room, apparently bored as hell.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"What do you think?" Then, a few seconds later, "You mind if I turn on the TV? I don't want to bother you while you work."

"Go ahead," he said. "I've got to reply to some emails. Don't need to focus too much."

She nodded, reached for the remote sitting on the bedside table and pointed it towards the screen hung on the wall. Mindful of Wilson, she lowered the volume and zapped from channel to channel. Nothing caught her attention. News reports were sad, documentaries about the sexual intercourses of hedgehogs were boring, and talk shows were noisy. Instead, she glanced out of the corner of her eye at the files Wilson had brought, which did not go unnoticed.

"Budgets reports," he said. She hesitated for a second and picked one. She missed her job terribly, and decided she would give her deputy a hand. Neurology. She read the report twice, with a frown.

"What's up with the technicians?" she asked. "Their budget is three times higher than it was in January."

"We had to call them seven times the last two weeks for a technical issue with an MRI machine. Apparently it can't be fixed." He sighed. "We have to replace it, but for now we're kinda running out of money in the department."

"Is that why you cut off some of the neurology patients budget?"

"Yeah, we're admitting less patients than usual with only two machines in running order." She pondered about the situation, and flipped through the pages again. "I've thought about organizing a charity gala or something," he continued. "But..."

"If you can afford organizing a gala, how can you not afford a two million dollar machine?" she finished his sentence.

"Exactly."

She grabbed the other files from the table, sat up and turned off the television. "Well there must be a solution. We must have these two million bucks somewhere."

Wordlessly, Wilson watched her drown herself into work again, like she used to do a few months earlier. Focusing on the dollars she had to find, she seemed so carefree, forgetting about House, about Mary. Nothing but her hospital existed. A sparkle of determination gleamed in her eyes and he thought he had not seen her like that in a while. Perhaps work was the key to her healing.

"How would you like getting your job back?" he offered after a few minutes of reflection.

Cuddy looked up, surprised. "Oh, I don't know, James. Not right now."

"I'm not leaving you on your own. We could start working together on mornings, then all day long. And when you're ready, I get back to oncology and you have the hospital all for yourself."

She pondered about it. His proposition was tempting. She missed her job too much and needed to clear her head. Administrating the hospital would keep her busy enough. But on the other hand, she considered she was still too fragile to handle the stress that came with the job. She had stood it for years and had grown used to it, but she had been away from her hospital for quite a while and her mental condition was probably too unstable to allow her to endure pressure.

"I'll have to talk about it with House."

"Remember, he doesn't have to make decisions for you," Wilson warned.

"I know," she replied. "And it has never happened. But I trust him. I trust his judgement. He knows me better than anyone does, you know."

He nodded. She focused on the budget reports again. By dinner time, Wilson was done replying to emails, Cuddy had cut off some other budgets without prejudicing any patient in any department, thus had found two million dollars to buy a brand new MRI machine. After having dinner while chatting casually, they watched TV together for a moment. The interim dean eventually started dozing off. Satisfied, Cuddy turned off the television.

There was no way she was staying at the hospital for the night.

Wilson took off his tie and opened the first button of his shirt, making himself comfortable in order to sleep. Her plan was working. He closed his eyes after wishing her a good night. She stayed awake, and waited for him to be fully asleep. An hour passed by.

"Wilson?" she whispered then. He did not move. "Wilson?" she repeated, a bit louder that time.

He groaned, opened his eyes and blinked.

"Sorry to wake you up," she said with an apologetic pout. "I need to use the bathroom."

"Well, please do," he mumbled, half-asleep.

"I can't carry the bed with me."

"Huh?" She raised her cuffed wrist. "Oh, right. Uh. Yeah. Just let me find the key." He rose, searched his pockets several times before laying a hand on the small key. "A-ha! There it is." He inserted it into the lock of the cuffs, releasing Cuddy. She let out a silent sigh of relief.

"Thanks," she said as she sat up, removing the oximeter off of her finger.

"'Want me to come with ya?"

"Thanks Wilson, but I think I can wipe my ass on my own," she replied with a smile. "You're dead tired, go back to sleep."

"Yeah..." He sat back into the chair and struggled not to doze off again, but his wrestle against Morpheus was lost in advance.

Cuddy walked to the bathroom, locked herself in and waited. A human being needed seven minutes to fall asleep. She would give it ten. She glanced around the room and noticed that the clothes she was wearing on the morning were there. While waiting for Wilson to drift to sleep, she removed her hospital gown and changed into House's dark sweatshirt and her jogging pants, before slipping on her sneakers. After a few minutes, she slightly pushed the door open and took a look into the room. Wilson was sound asleep. Perfect. She tiptoed her way in, drew closer to the coat stand, where he had hung his jacket. She searched its pockets, found his wallet and pulled out a twenty dollar bill. Then, she noiselessly opened the sliding doors, and exited the room. On her way to the lifts, a nurse glanced up at her from the counter and Cuddy offered her a polite smile, like she had always done when she was dean of Medicine. The young woman did not stop her from fleeing and returned her attention to her computer. The lift took Cuddy to the ground floor, and when she discretely escaped by the main entry, she sighed with relief. She was free. The weather was cold, so she slipped her hood on, and walked to the exit of the emergency room. Like every day and every night, she knew there would be cabs waiting around there. It took her less than five minutes to hail one and get into the car.

"Whereto?" the driver asked.

"Two-twenty-one Baker Street," she answered with no hesitation. The cabman nodded and pulled into the road. House had said he needed to spend some time away from her, then he would be at his place for sure. Moreover, she did not have the keys to her house. It did not leave her the choice anyway. He probably would not be very happy with her running away from the hospital and showing up at his door at past midnight, but she did not care. Even though she still felt a bit of resentment, she needed the shelter and the warmth of his embrace. She wanted him to hold her tight and whisper in her ear that everything would be okay because he would be there, with her, always.

She pondered about it during her journey. Her home, the very place where she wanted to find shelter when things went wrong, was not the suburban house she had bought a few years ago, decorated with infinite care and claimed as her den. It was where she was sure to find love and safety. House's flat. Where they had made love so passionately that it had brought tears to her eyes several times. Where she had spent some of the happiest moments of her existence. Where she had managed to relieve her stress every time she had not been able to bear the pressure any longer. Where she would allow herself to exist, beyond the mask she had always put on in front of everyone. Home would always be House's place. Home would always be with House.

She handed her twenty dollar bill to the driver once he had stopped in front of the building, told him to keep the change and rushed out of the cab, impatient to see House. She almost ran the few steps of the stoop and took a deep breath, standing in front of his door. The lights were on, so he must be still awake. She wondered for a second what he could be doing. Drinking. Playing the piano or the guitar. Watching some stupid reality show. Pacing around. Reading. Thinking. She knocked twice, expecting him to yell to fuck off until she shouted who she was through the door. Instead, she heard stilettos drawing closer to the door ten seconds later. She feared she had knocked on someone else's door, but she could not be wrong. It was the right building, a golden capital B was fixed on the wooden surface. For sure, it was House's flat.

She just could not believe what she was about to see.

A tall busty blonde in mini skirt, tight tank top and hands gleaming from what Cuddy assumed was some sort of lubricant, opened the door.

"Hi," she greeted in an absolutely horrible high-pitched voice. "'You there for Greg? I don't think he called anyone else, but..."

"What is it?" House called, getting closer to the two women. Cuddy could hear his limp was heavier than usual. He froze in astonishment when he saw Cuddy standing there, as pale as a sheet. He was bare-chested, only wearing pajamas pants, and hurried to slip a tee-shirt on, which was lying on the sofa, as he saw her.

"Cuddy?" he asked. "What are you doing here?"

* * *

><p><em>Please don't throw stones at me yet! Give House a chance to explain himself. I promise you, it'll be worth it :)<br>_


	34. Chapter 33

_Helloooooww! It's Wednesday! Here's a brand new chapter!_**  
><strong>

_First of all, thank you very, very much for all your reviews, and for your support. :) Anyway, I know it's going to ruin the surprise, but I've got to warn you : **this chapter contains smut scenes**. I hope you'll like it! The whole chapter was corrected by IHeartHouseCuddy, whom I thank for that. :)  
>Also, before I let you read House's explanation, I need to tell you that only half the next chapter is written, I still have to translate it into French, so it might take me some time to update. Probably within less than a month. I promise I will do my best!<br>_

_(And a happy 4th of July if you're American! ;))  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Thirty-Three<strong>

* * *

><p>She wanted to cry. She wanted to shout. She wanted to throw up. She wanted to wake up from this nightmare. She wanted to curl up in a corner and die. Her whole universe was shattering in smithereens. House with another woman. <em>House with another woman.<em> It took her a few moments to pull herself together and answer in a blank tone, "I was going to ask her the same fucking question."

"Look, it's not what it looks like..." he started clumsily.

"It's never what it looks like," she snapped, getting angrier as seconds ticked by. House could see the fury darkening her eyes, however her voice remained dangerously calm and emotionless. She was much angrier than what he could ever imagine.

The blonde woman stared in confusion, until she finally spoke up. "Wait, you're Greg's girlfriend?"

"Not for long anymore."

His heart pounded faster in fear as he heard her. House took a step towards her, attempted to gently take her hand in his own. "Cuddy, listen to me..."

"Don't!" she screamed, stepping back. "Don't touch me!" She could feel the tremors of wrath flooding into her veins and taking grip of her whole body. "How could you do this to me, you bastard!"

"We didn't have–" the woman tried to intervene, but Cuddy merely cut her off.

"Fuck you!" She turned to House. "So that's it? I don't satisfy you any longer so you get rid of me, lock me up in the hospital and then you can empty your balls? Like you'd put aside a fucking toy in a fucking sandbox once you're done playing with it? How long have you been cheating on me? Since you've knocked me up, I guess?" Tears rushed up to her eyes as she enumerated the facts. She was yelling to a point where she could awake the whole building.

"Just let me explain, dammit!"

"Fuck, you haven't changed. You'll always be that fucking son of a bitch I should have never met!"

He dropped his gaze and gave up on reasoning her, knowing it was just the anger speaking. A normal Cuddy was already fierce, but an angry Cuddy was a ticking nuclear time bomb. Once she would have calmed down and he would have explained himself properly, all of that would be forgotten. Hopefully.

"I should go," the woman stammered, intimidated by Greg's girlfriend.

"Oh no, don't," Cuddy said. "I am leaving. The bastard is all yours now! You can even marry him for all I care!"

"You're bleeding," House blurted, staring at the side of her face, before she could turn away.

"Don't fucking touch me!" she yelled as he limped towards her. He ignored it and, immediately, she slapped him with no hesitation. As an answer, he firmly seized her frail wrists and pulled her to him, not giving a damn about her protestations, followed by sobs. He pinned her face against his chest, holding her tight with his free arm. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of his masseuse walking out of his flat with her folding massage table tucked under her arm. Cuddy was hitting his torso with her tiny fists, until her strength gave up and she began to cry loudly and freely. House gently caressed her back and led her to his door. As she resisted and attempted to flee, he said in a soft tone, "You pulled a stitch, Cuddy. We need to take care of it."

She gave up and followed him in, tears streaming down her face. Noticing an envelope thick with dollar bills on the mantelpiece, she shivered.

"You fucking bastard," she murmured, as he closed the door. He sighed, took off his tee-shirt and pressed it gently to her bleeding wound. "Our daughter died, dammit," she carried on, blinded with her own tears. "Mary died and you fuck whores."

"Hold it," he said, motioning towards his tee-shirt. She did as she was told. He grabbed her wrist firmly, led her to his room.

"I hate you. I fucking hate you."

One of the bedside lamps was switched on, its soft golden glow spreading across the room. The bed was quite neatly made – as neat as House was willing to make it, that is to say he had simply thrown a sheet onto the mattress – and the curtains were drawn. To Cuddy, it used to seem extremely comfy, but it suddenly did not feel like home at all anymore. He had had sex with someone other than her in their bed, shared their home with another woman – a hooker, to be more precise. Someone he had paid to give him some affection while she was right there and willing to do so. It felt like hell.

"I'll be right back," House said, disappearing into the bathroom. Waiting for him, Cuddy wiped her tears clumsily with the back of her hand. Her cries had calmed down, but she was still mad as hell. After he had washed his hands, House returned to her with his suture kit tucked under his arm. He sat cross-legged on his side of the bed, facing hers. She faltered but did the same, kicking her shoes off and settling in front of him. She looked away, refusing to meet his eyes. Slipping his wire-rimmed glasses on, he gently took his tee-shirt away from her, glanced down at the stain of blood and pulled a face at the sight of her wound. The bleeding had stopped, but he still had to suture the gash again. He grabbed a piece of gauze, soaked it with saline solution and laid it on her skin. He first cleaned the wound, then the dried blood that had dripped down. Cuddy did not stir and kept staring at her lap. Curious, she eventually raised her eyes when he opened the kit and chose a needle. After sterilizing it with alcohol, he carefully slipped the thread into its eye, and laid his left palm on the side of Cuddy's face.

"Stay put," he said in a calm voice, the needle piercing through her skin. She trembled; slightly, but he felt it. "I'll call a cab when we're done," he continued as he had completed the first stitch.

"What? Why?" She turned to him, he pushed her face back.

"Don't move!" He dropped the needle and, puffing, searched for it through the sheet.

"Sorry."

"You said it was over between us," he resumed once he had laid a hand on the tiny piece of steel. "I don't think you want to spend the night at my place, do you?"

She dropped her glance. "I don't have the keys of my place."

"I'll give you my spare."

Then it struck her. She was going to lose everything. She was going to lose the safety of his presence, the shelter of his embrace, possibly forever. She was going to lose her home, the shoulder she could lean and cry onto, she was going to lose her sanity. She was going to lose House again, for a stupid mistake they could have avoided. If she had cared for him more, if she had not ended up in the hospital, he would not have needed to back away and hire a hooker. She could not go through that again. She could not let go of the man she had been loving truly, passionately for over two decades. Lisa Cuddy was certainly not the kind of person to forgive easily, nevertheless when concerning House, she had always managed to forget. She could not do otherwise. She needed him in her life, it was as simple as that.

He knotted the thread, gently caressed with his fingertip the thin, neat line at the brim of her hair.

"I don't think it will leave a scar," he said. "You should have them out in a week." He drew a lock of her hair towards her face, hiding the wound. He then laid his glasses on the bedside table and slipped his instruments back into the kit, as slowly as he could, putting off the moment when he would have to call the cab and break apart from her forever.

"No," she blurted in a voice full of tears. He looked up at her with red eyes. "Don't leave me. I didn't want to end it, I didn't mean that, I... I was mad," she explained. "I didn't mean what I was saying!"

"Well, you should have thought about it twice."

He dropped his head. Tears dwelt up in her eyes as she recalled the horrible things she had said earlier. She had told him he would never change, while he had made incredible efforts to be a better man for her and Rachel, insulted him, told him she hated him. She had terribly hurt him, she realised it then.

Her tears rolled down her cheeks. "I'm sorry," she sobbed, her body shaking from her cries. She hid her face in her hands, while he stared at her for a few seconds. "I can't lose you, House, I can't stand it!"

He grabbed her wrist gently, pulled it away from her face, and rubbed her soaked cheek with his thumb.

"Shh, it's okay," he soothed her, on the verge of tears himself. For one moment, he had considered breaking up with her for good. After all she had said, he had believed she would never forgive him, no matter if he told her the truth. But she meant too much to him, he could not give up on her that easily. "There's no way I'm leaving you."

"We're not breaking up, House? Tell me. Tell me we're not breaking up."

"Of course we're not breaking up. Stop crying now," he murmured.

She nodded frantically, took a deep breath. A minute later, reassured, she calmed down and her crying stopped. She looked into his eyes. He leant over to kiss her, but she pulled away when his lips brushed hers.

"You're still upset," he deduced.

"Yes."

"Will you let me explain, this time?"

She gulped, scared of what he was going to say. But they needed to get over it. "Okay, go ahead."

"First of all," he started. "She's not a hooker."

Cuddy scoffed. "With the way she dresses?" House glared at her. "Sorry. So you picked her up in a bar." She sighed. "How much did you drink?"

"I didn't pick her up in a bar and I didn't drink!" he denied. "She's not really a hooker actually, but..."

She cut him off, "How does this matter? You fucked the bitch!"

"I didn't have sex with her, Cuddy. She..."

"Why? You didn't have time because I showed up when she was undressing you?"

"Will you just let me speak?" She pouted. "When you knocked, I was taking a hot bath." She arched her eyebrows. "Alone," he clarified. "Thought it might relieve the pain a bit."

She fell dead silent as she began to understand, and dropped her head.

"She's a masseuse," he explained. "The kind who gives massages with a happy ending, if you know what I mean. Anyway, I didn't ask for a happy ending, I just needed the massage. My leg was hurting like crap, I wonder why..." he said ironically. That's when he heard her sob.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I'm so sorry, House. As your girlfriend, I'm supposed to help you with your pain and I just make it worse..."

She then began to cry loudly again. She was awful. Only she was supposed to give him the massages that he needed. Only she was supposed to take his pain away, not some hooker he barely knew.

He laid a hand on her shoulder, trying to soothe her. It had no effect. She had buried her face in her palms, shaking with sobs. He pulled her into a tight hug. She draped her arms firmly around his back, gripping his shoulders. Her nose nestled in the crook of his neck, he let her cry while rubbing her back gently.

"You don't really trust me, do you?" he asked once her crying had eased a bit, without loosening his embrace.

"I do, I just thought you were sick of ruining your socks."

He chuckled. She loved the way the tremors of his chest shook hers and how the deep vibrations of his soft laughter echoed through her own rib cage. He then added very seriously, "Sex with you is way too amazing for me to fuck another woman. Or even another man, in case you're jealous of Wilson."

She smiled. "Flattering me won't work."

He kissed the crown of her head, before laying his cheek there.

He could not quite fathom he was holding her. He had been so scared the whole day, afraid of what could happen to her, afraid to lose her again, for good. And yet, there she was, pressing him tight against her frame, clutching at him as if her life depended on it. He held her even tighter, afraid that she might disappear at any moment. He covered her scalp with slow, lingering pecks, reaching her temple. He followed a path of kisses across her cheek, she turned her head and his lips brushed hers. They took a ragged breath, staring into each other's eyes, until they gave in. She did not kiss him and he did not kiss her, _they_ kissed. They abandoned themselves to this undeniable bond and constant need they couldn't fight.

It was a quick peck at first. Not rushed, just hesitant, almost scared. And another peck that lingered a little longer. A third one. Then their tongues met. They did not kiss immediately, remained lips locked and mouths parted, trying to accustom themselves again to the thrills flooding inside them. Cuddy dared let go of his shoulders gently in order to cup his cheeks. She moaned slightly into his mouth when he caressed her tongue with his own, and he knew she was ready. They kept kissing slowly, quietly. No frenzy. They were taking their time to disclose one another again. They kissed with the tip of their tongues at first, shyly, afraid of their feelings. They gained more confidence, shared kisses that grew bolder and bolder and left them panting for air. House gently grabbed her waist and lifted her so she sat in his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck while he held her tighter, closer to him. They kept on cuddling, their kisses growing daring but not lustful, expressing quietly, peacefully, all the love that couldn't be described with mere words.

Cuddy let go of him, in order to lift her sweatshirt and toss the garment onto the floor. Breathless, she looked down at House, whose hands were gripping her waist. His lips were swollen and his eyes shiny. He wanted her as much as she wanted him.

"I'm ready," she murmured, her eyes darker and gleaming with desire, in the most sensual voice he had ever heard.

"Are you sure you want it?" he whispered, caressing her back gently until his palm hit the fabric of her bra.

"I want you." She stared into his eyes, her own full of love, adoration and trust. She then swooped down on his lips, cupping his cheeks. House held her tight against him, as she kissed him tenderly. He unclasped her bra, brushing her shoulder blades and arms as the straps slid down to the crook of her elbows. She had to let go of him so as to get rid of the now cumbersome garment. Along with his suture kit and tee-shirt stained with her blood, House threw it to the floor. Lips locked with her, he cupped one of her breasts slowly, careful not to hurt her. She moaned, wiggled in his lap, held his shoulders tight with one arm, and stroked his chest with her free hand. As she kissed his jaw and neck, he pecked her cheek, the side of her forehead, any part of her face he could reach, while he fondled her warm flesh. She glanced up at him, gently pulled away. Taking his hand, she lay down on the bed, head resting on the pillow, guided him so he could lay over her. They looked into each other's eyes. He stroked her face, from her temple to her jaw, and she loved the way he was looking at her, as if she were the most precious, beautiful thing in the entire world. He bent over to drop a tender, delicate kiss to her lips. She kissed back with a slight moan, grabbed his hand to kiss his knuckles once he had pulled away. He pecked her lips a few more times, promising wordlessly he would do his best to please her, before his tongue slid to her neck. His stubble subtly scratched and his teeth grazed her skin several times, causing a delicious shiver to run across her body, but he never bit. He kissed, slowly licked her jugular, as she kept on holding his hand, moaning softly and throwing her head backwards with pleasure.

Their fingers intertwined. He slid to the crook of her collarbone, dropped a lingering kiss into its hollow, his free hand taking hold of her waist. She shuddered ever so slightly. He drew a trail of kisses towards one of her breasts, gently let the tip of his tongue wander around her nipple. He teased the crimson bud with his mouth, before sucking on it carefully. Cuddy moaned, gripped his head to make sure he would keep pleasuring her. He let go of her hip to focus on the breast that he had left alone, his palm caressing its way from her flank to the underside of the warm, pale globe. House kept on fondling her bosom, paying attention to her reactions. She was writhing underneath him, letting out throaty, unrestrained groans, never letting go of his hand.

But he knew she wanted more. One hand still toying with her nipple, his mouth slid down to her stomach. Aware that she was still uncomfortable with this part of her body, and he could feel it as she cringed under his touch, he did not linger there. He simply licked into her navel, drawing a line with the tip of his tongue from its hollow to the brim of her pants. In order to remove them, he let go of her hand and breast. He then sat up and knelt, looking down at her bare body offered ahead of him. Her dark hair was splayed out on the pillow, her cheeks were flushed and her lips swollen. She glanced up at him with gleaming eyes, her breath hitching.

"Everything okay?" he asked in a murmur. She nodded, biting her lip. With a loving smile, he gently tugged at the waistband of her trousers. She bent her legs so as to allow him to remove them more easily, as the garment slid down her thighs. The pair of pants ended up tossed on the carpet. House lifted her legs gently, kissed her right ankle, then all the way to her groin; the side of her calf, her knee and its underside, her thigh, caressing her legs smoothly. He wanted to kiss her everywhere, every tiniest part of her. He could not get enough of her silken skin, her intoxicating perfume. He wanted to hold her tight and kiss her and make love to her like never before. He was so in love with her at that moment.

He glanced up at her one last time, her knees resting on his shoulders and his head buried in between her thighs. She did not need to say a word or even move; the passionate, sultry look she cast him told him she wanted this just as much as he did. He gripped her hips delicately, dropped a kiss to her slit through her panties. He could feel her heat and dampness through the thin material. Cuddy moaned loudly, bucking against his face, her fists grasping at the sheet. A pang of strong arousal jolted through her lower stomach. She could not wait anymore. She could not wait for him to touch her there, lick her, kiss her. It was burning deep in her core and she needed a release.

"Please," she let out.

He would not tease her any longer. She could not afford it.

He slid her panties down her legs, throwing them away, and quickly lay back between her thighs, her legs lying on either side of him. He laid his hands on her hips again and gave her wet sex a hard lick, from the edge of her entrance to her swollen clit, taking his time to savour her taste. She arched, moaned his name in a sweet supplication. After repeating the motion several times, he focused on her erected nub, licked it and sucked on it eagerly, causing her to squirm and moan and whimper from the waves of pleasure surging through her entire body and the electrical tension building up in the small of her back. She was getting lost in the sensations. He licked her folds from time to time, paying attention to what she enjoyed the most. He then added his thumb, skilfully flicking her clit as he licked the rim of her sheath, eventually plunging his tongue inside of her. Slowly, in order to let the tension build up. She cried out, her moves were shaky when she reached out to grab his hand and lace her fingers with his own again. She gripped his head, digging her nails into his scalp. She was so close, he could feel it as her moans were growing desperate and her inner walls clamped slightly around his tongue. He kept on making love to her with his mouth, but she seemed to be struggling. She was seconds away from falling off the edge and into a blissful coma but something, whatever it was, was holding her back. Holding her hand tighter, he raised his head to look at her face, his thumb still stroking her clit.

"Cuddy," he called out in a whisper. "Cuddy, look at me." She did so, lifting her eyelids and staring straight into his cerulean eyes. "Just let go," he said. "Relax. It's okay."

"Dammit, I can't," she let out, her voice filled with nervous sobs.

"Yes, you can. You're safe with me, Lisa. I promise."

"Kiss me," she demanded. He used his hand laced with hers for leverage, laid it beside her face. He kept on pleasuring her as he felt her shallow breath on his cheek, bent over to press his lips on hers. She groaned with satisfaction into his mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck, and kissed him back with fervour. He pulled back as they ran out of air, observed the pleasure he was giving her distorting her lovely features.

"You're so beautiful," he said, leaning over to kiss her again and cupping her cheek. She clung onto him, thus sitting up, buried her nose into his neck while he circled her back with his arm. Some scarce whimpers escaped her mouth amidst her loud moans. She was trembling, unable to let go and brought down by the tension building up.

"Let go," House murmured, still flicking her clit. "Just let go, don't be scared." She was rubbing frantically the mattress with her heels, desperately scratching the skin of his back. "What do you want? Tell me."

"Don't– don't know..." He slowed down his caresses, but she bucked harder against his hand, prodding him into picking up pace. "Keep going," she breathed, still hiding her face. "Wanna come, House..."

Once he had found the right rhythm, he knew she would fall at any moment. He only had to reassure her about whatever she was afraid of. Holding her closer to him, he whispered, "I've got you, I've got you Lisa. It's okay."

She held on tighter, letting out a small, "Oh." before she gasped. "I'm coming..."

"Cum for me," he encouraged her, murmuring into her ear. "I want you to cum so hard, babe..." And she came, nuzzling his neck and screaming his name.

"I love you," she cried out. "I love you, I love you!" He rode out her orgasm with her, stroking her bud to prolong her climax as much as possible while she bucked against his hand, until he knew it was going to end and his caresses would eventually hurt her. She tensed up one last time, and her body went limp in his arms. He gently put her down back onto the mattress where she lay, struggling to catch her breath. He pecked her forehead tenderly, and crawled to lie down beside her, grabbing her hand and lacing their fingers together. Cuddy turned her head to him, feeling his presence but did not open her eyes. She just lay there, panting, with a slight smile on her parted lips, and he thought of how relaxed and gorgeous she looked. Once her breathing had slowed down to normal, she drifted back to reality. With a purr, she stared at his face with loving eyes, and smiled to him. He smiled back, enjoying her bliss as much as she did.

"Well, we should take care of you now," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Dropping a lingering kiss to his lips, she flipped him onto his back, but he pushed her away gently.

"No," he said as she cast him a puzzled look. "You don't have to. Tonight, it's about you. Only you."

"Thank you," she smiled gratefully. Her orgasm had taken most of her energy. She wasn't sure she would have been able to pleasure him. She kissed him on the cheek and huddled in his arms. "Do you have any idea how much I love you?"

It was his turn to smile, while he caressed her hair. "Yeah. I love you just as much." He held her tighter and she closed her eyes to sleep. "Wait, I'm gonna fetch a tee-shirt for you."

His leg didn't hurt when he stood up.

Once she had slipped on the tee-shirt he had given her, he threaded his way under the sheet and she followed him, then he switched off the light. His strong arms wrapped around her, she drifted into a peaceful sleep.

Until his cellphone rang. In a haze, she barely heard House curse and pick up. Cuddy listlessly reached out to switch on the bedside lamp.

"Yeah?" he growled. A panicky Wilson replied.

"Cuddy's gone!"

"Wha–"

"I just woke up and she's not in the room!" Wilson cut him off. "I'm going to initiate lockdown and..."

"Wilson!"

"I'm so sorry House, I know I was supposed to look after her..."

"Will you just shut up?" House let out. Cuddy turned to him and cocked an eyebrow. The diagnostician figured that Wilson did just the same.

"Excuse me?"

"Cuddy's with me," he said.

"What? Are you sure?"

House looked down at her, curled up in the crook of his arm, sleepy. "Unless it's her secret twin sister lying next to me, I'm quite sure, yeah."

"Wilson?" she mouthed. He shook his head yes. She gestured to him to hand her his phone, which he did. "Hey Wilson," she greeted. "Sorry I disappeared on you like that. I needed to go back home."

A few seconds passed by. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes, don't worry. House is taking great care of me."

"My God, you scared the shit out of me!" he let out eventually.

"Sorry. Oh and about the twenty bucks I took from your wallet, I'll give them back to you next time we meet, 'kay?"

She heard him walk to the coat stand, search into his pocket and open his billfold. He sighed.

"I'm really sorry..."

"It's fine," he said. "I honestly would have been surprised to see you were still here on the morning." She chuckled. He yawned.

"You should go back to sleep, Wilson."

"Yeah. Good night, Cuddy. Glad to know you're okay."

"Me, too. Good night."

She hung up, gave House his phone back. He turned it off before laying it onto his bedside table, while she snuggled up against his chest.

"What?" she asked as he stared at her.

"You stole money from Wilson?"

"Borrowed!"

"Whatever." He smiled and pecked her forehead. "That's my girl!"

Cuddy giggled. "Come on, let's go back to sleep." After she switched off the light, he wrapped an arm around her, stroking her hair with his free hand, and watched her fall asleep for the second time that night.

* * *

><p><em>TBC...<em>


	35. Chapter 34

_Hi everybody! Still remember me? I'm the one who promised you I'd update soon and it took me nearly a month. I'm so sorry. This chapter was difficult to write. I was never satisfied and I ended up deleting some parts, re-writing others. But now it's done. I think I like it, but it's clearly not my favourite... Anyway, part of the next chapter is written and it seems muuuuch easier, so chapter thirty-five will be published within the next month for sure. :)_

_Many thanks to all of you for the feedback you left last time! I'm glad we've reached the 200th review :) I wish I could hug all of you! (Also, I haven't been much on the website lately - and I will catch up on the updates I haven't read yet ASAP - but apparently, guest reviewers can leave their names again! Whew! Well that's an awesome news :p) And many thanks to IHeartHouseCuddy for taking a look at this chapter. ;)_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Thirty-Four<strong>

* * *

><p>She had a peaceful night. No nightmare, no frantic turning over and over in the covers. Cuddy slept the whole night through, and woke up in the morning to House, already up, lying onto his back beside her. She smiled, still sleepy, and briefly glanced at the window. From what she could see, the weather seemed gorgeous, even though a few white clouds were strewn across the sky. It was a beautiful day coming up.<p>

"How are you feeling?"

She nodded, unable to construct a sentence at the moment before she merely uttered, "Good." With loving eyes, she observed him for a few seconds, and cuddled up against his chest, ready to fall back to sleep. Aware that she needed rest after that emotional night, he let her, even pulled her into a hug. They remained there, unmoving, just lazying around.

"What do you want to do this afternoon?" he asked eventually. She shrugged. "Go out for a walk?"

"Dunno."

"Hey, I've thought of something. If you walked round the neighborhood every day, you could actually lose some weight."

"Not today," she refused. "So many things have happened since..." Her voice trailed off. She could not mention it, she was not ready for that yet. She wondered if she would ever be. "I just want it to slow down. Can we do nothing and stay in bed?"

"Sure," he agreed. She raised her head and smiled up to him, then closed her eyes. House tightened his embrace, deciding to snooze as well. Minutes passed by in silence. Cuddy was licking her lips continuously, her throat feeling dry.

"I'm gonna get a glass of water," she announced. "You want one?"

He shook his head. "No, thanks."

Eyes still closed, she slothfully rolled to the edge of the bed and stretched out like a cat, before groaning in pain. It felt like underneath her skin, her whole body was afire, lighting at her every move.

House lifted an eyelid. "You okay?"

"Stiff," she whined, laying flat on her stomach. "Everywhere. Remind me of that next time I talk about working out." They cracked a smile.

Courageously, she crawled until her legs were dangling off the mattress and her feet eventually touched the rug. She stood up, dragged herself out of the bedroom and walked back in with a glass of water. The droplets sliding down its inner walls indicated that she had already gulped down its content, at least once, before filling the glass again. She took a sip and laid it on the bedside table as she sat on the bed. House held out his arm, so that she could huddle beside him again, which she did.

"I'll draw you a bath," he said.

"Oh, yeah," she purred. "What time is it, by the way?"

"Who cares?" he sighed before flipping over to his flank, facing her. She chuckled.

"My thoughts exactly."

As she began to doze off again, House ran his hand across her back, from one scapula to another. Cuddy groaned when he hit the sorest area. He sat up and carefully toppled her onto her stomach, in order to rub her nape with both his hands. She docilely let him, loving how he took care of her. Gently, he massaged the base of her skull, progressively deviating towards her shoulders through the tee-shirt she was wearing. He kept going during several minutes, Cuddy moaning in delight. But after a while, he pulled away, deciding he would tease her. She immediately raised her head.

"Why did you stop?"

"Sorry," he said with a smirk. "The whole back massage isn't free. It's twenty bucks, actually."

She tensed up. "House, it's not funny."

His half-smile faded. She rested her head back on the pillow with a sad pout.

"No," he admitted, eventually lying back beside her on his tummy. He studied her face for a moment. She was trying to conceal it, but something was obviously tickling her mind. She seemed lost in her thoughts.

"Something's bugging you," he said, matter-of-factly.

Cuddy let out a sigh. "It's nothing. I just... I keep thinking about yesterday."

"Don't," he said, hoping they would not need to talk about it. "It's over."

"Can't help..." She allowed her gaze to wander before she looked into his eyes. She expected an honest answer. If she got rid of her doubts, it would be easier to move on. "Why did you force me to stay at the hospital? So that you could hire a hooker behind my back?"

"Keeping you in observation was Wilson's idea," he clarified.

She rolled her eyes. Of course, he would deflect. It was House she was dealing with, after all. "Don't blame this on him. Don't dodge like you always do, dammit!"

"I don't!" he denied. "Just let me finish! The cuffs were my idea. I wanted to make sure you wouldn't hurt yourself while I wasn't there. And I left you alone, because..." He sighed. She deserved to know the truth. He could not cover it with yet again another lie. "I was being a coward," he said, careful to avert his eyes from hers. "I didn't want to acknowledge that you had managed to get hurt again." He paused. "Cuddy, you scared me to death. Wilson calls me, tells me you're in the ER for possible head trauma, how do you want me not to freak out? If that guy who called the paramedics–"

"Pete," she cut him off.

"Whatever," he dismissed. Focusing on such tiny details was pointless. "If he hadn't been there to help you, you could have died. From lack of sugar in your blood, from hitting your head on the pavement, from bleeding out, I don't know."

"You're extrapolating," she defended herself. Her accident had not been that serious.

He ignored it. He was aware that he was exaggerating, but he had to get her to open her eyes. "Do you understand what it means, dying? What it means to me?" Ashamed, she looked away. She had managed to drag him into the spiral of misery she had fallen into. "You're the only one I have, Cuddy." He continued in a lower voice, speaking in all honesty. "Without you, I..." His voice trailed off. What would he do without her? He had no idea. Without her in his life, all he could see was an endless nothingness ahead. He could not let himself lose her. "Promise me you'll stop hurting yourself like that. I can't keep going through this."

"Okay," she soughed.

"Promise me," he insisted. She remained silent. As long as she was that miserable and could not find a way to fix herself, she was not able to promise him such a thing. "Why did you do that?" he asked.

Without a word, she rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling for a moment.

"I don't know," she replied. "I ache. Every day. And it won't get better." She sighed. "Why can't I get over it? Why did it even happen in the first place? Why to us?"

"It just happened," he said, lying onto his back as well. "For no reason."

"I can't accept that. Can you?"

It took him some time to answer. He had already thought about it. They had lost their daughter for no particular reason. He knew that it was nobody's fault. That it was bad luck. And yet he could not content himself with it. "No."

"You always need a reason, you look for reasons!" she insisted as she sat up, indignation winning over her. "You spend your life looking for reasons, for answers! You want everything to make sense! You always want to understand everything!"

"Cuddy, you want it to make sense, but it doesn't make any at all!" He imitated her and rested his back against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him.

"Why don't you want to understand? To look for reasons? Meaning?"

"Because I know there isn't any. It doesn't make any sense, Cuddy," he repeated.

"And you don't accept that. That's why you should be looking."

He rubbed his forehead and looked away. "I don't want to look for meaning anymore," he admitted. "I don't even want to think about it. I can't." He paused. "Heck, every time you're losing it, it reminds me of it. It..." She listened to him quietly, as he took his time to put into words what he wanted to say. "It hurts. It hurts me that you're stuck and you can't get over it. We don't need to think about why it happened, it won't change a thing. She won't suddenly crawl out of her grave and–"

"She doesn't even have a grave, House!" she interrupted him. "She's still in the hospital." She squeezed her eyes shut, and hid her face in her hand. He tugged gently at her free wrist, inviting her to cuddle up beside him as a comfort. She hurried to find shelter in his arms. "It's unfair," she carried on. "We didn't deserve that. It's like the universe just keeps taking it all out on us."

"Well, let's give the universe the finger," he said after a few seconds. Cuddy giggled as he raised his middle finger and pointed it towards the sky. "Let's prove the universe that we are so much stronger than that."

"Hell, yes," she confirmed, raising her finger as well. House looked down at her with a small smile.

"The legs are free, by the way," he added. She frowned, then chuckled when she realised he was talking about the massage he had interrupted. He had a good idea. After that emotional moment, they both needed some lightness. He interrogated her with his glance and she responded by shaking her head yes. They smiled, before she sank down until laying on her stomach. House slithered in order to sit beside her calves. He placed his hands on one of them, and started drawing circles with his thumbs, effectively applying pressure.

"Want me to massage your leg after thaaaooowww," she asked, moaning loudly when he hit a particularly stiff zone, her leg jerking.

"After what? Sorry, I didn't catch that last part," he teased her. She grumbled in return. "Nah, I'll be fine."

"You sure?" She propped herself up onto her elbows and turned to him. "You needed a massage last night."

"Yes, but it's fine now." He moved to her left leg. She arched an eyebrow.

"Did she massage your leg?"

House raised his head. "No. You interrupted. She was settling her stuff when you arrived."

"Okay." Quite satisfied with his answer, she lay back on the bed.

"You're never okay with me hiring a masseuse," he noticed, leaving her calf aside.

"Why would I be okay with you hiring a hooker to take care of a part of your body you were reluctant to even let me see when we started dating?" It left him speechless. She did have a point. She was his girlfriend, his doctor, a close friend, and he could think of many other words to describe her. A stranger did not deserve that kind of intimacy with him; she did. He sighed and lay down beside her.

"You don't trust me."

"Stop saying that! I do!" She let out a sigh as well. "The problem is about me," Cuddy admitted. "I can't stand when you're around another woman." Blushing, she turned away, laying her right cheek on the pillow.

He smiled. "You're jealous."

"Shut up."

He wrapped his arm around her back "That's cute," he whispered into her ear, feeling her shuddering.

"Stop making fun of me," she protested, turning back to him. He took the opportunity to place a peck on her nose.

"My leg is fine. I don't need a masseuse when you're here," he explained. "That's all."

He was not lying. From morning, when he had realised she had not had breakfast, until she had thrown herself into his arms in the middle of the night, his thigh had been throbbing painfully. By the end of the day, he had barely been able to stand up, which forced him to choose between a massage that Cuddy would disapprove of if she found out about it, and drugs. Either morphine or Vicodin, it did not matter, as long as it numbed the pain. Considering how fragile he and Cuddy were, he could not afford to plunge back into hell and opted for the other option. Although he had not had his leg massaged, Cuddy's well-being was enough to reassure him and dull the pain. It still hurt, of course, like on a regular day. He was capable of handling it.

"Okay," she said with a smile.

"So, you want a priority access to my leg?" he asked.

"Exclusive!"

He raised his eyebrows, then nodded. "Okay, fair enough. How about you start by not treating it like crap?" Cuddy knitted her brows in confusion. "And by that, I mean stop scaring me like you did yesterday."

She sighed, her eyes misting up with tears. "I'm sorry," she apologized, cupping his cheek in her palm. She searched into his look for his consent, then craned her neck to kiss his lips, resting her forehead against his own. "Won't happen again," she promised in a whisper. He nodded, pulling her body closer to his.

There were still some things he wanted to clarify. "Can I ask you a question?" he said after letting a full minute pass by.

"Yeah." He was going to raise a tough subject, she knew it. He was not the kind of person who hesitated to ask a question.

"Did you want to hurt yourself, yesterday? Kill yourself?" he finally dared to utter.

She heaved a sigh. "I don't know. I don't know what I'm doing."

It took him a few seconds to respond. "I've been through that, Cuddy," he said in a calm tone. "I know what you feel." He had already been that miserable, had hit rock bottom several times before. He had always been miserable anyway, more or less. He could understand how she felt. "You feel like you're never gonna heal, you think it's not worth living anymore, and you ask yourself, what's the point?" Cuddy stared into his eyes, amazed that he could understand her so well, that he described her feelings with so much accuracy. "But you need to hold on. Think of Rachel. Think of me. Live for me, for us," he begged her. Tears rushed up to her eyes. "We'll pull through this, Cuddy. I promise you."

She let a few tears roll down her cheeks. House cupped her jaw and kissed her face, kissed her tears, before she buried her nose in his neck and he tightened his embrace desperately. Her cries calmed down after a few minutes.

"When I see you and Rachel, I know it's worth fighting," she said in a weak voice, not moving from her hiding place. "But yeah, I've considered ending it. Fleeing pain. I ache so much, House." He began to stroke her back gently. "It's inside me. It's tearing me apart. It's never coming to a rest. It burns up in my head and in my chest and in my stomach and it hurts so much..." She took a deep breath and carried on in a trembling voice. "And I'm scared. I'm scared we won't pull through this. I'm scared we're not strong enough. I want our relationship to last, House. No matter what."

"I know," he said. "Me, too."

"Maybe seeing your shrink could help," she suggested after a pause. She knew she had issues, and she was ready to confront them. She could get over it, dammit!

"You've finally made up your mind?" he asked.

She raised her head and looked into his eyes. "Yes. I think so."

"Good," he smiled, before rubbing her cheek gently with his thumb. "I'll make the appointment."

"Are we going together?" Talking about her feelings with a stranger was not something she wanted to do on her own. She could not take the plunge without him. Moreover, if he did not pour out his feelings as well, it would not work. She would only feel guilty to get help whereas he did not, perhaps he would sink deeper into his misery, and the situation would even worsen, even though she doubted it was possible.

"Yep."

She let out a relieved sigh. As he leaned in to kiss her, she offered him one of her most beautiful beams. Cuddled up in his arms, her face less than an inch away from his own, she confidently dozed off again and so did he. Their cat nap, however, did not last longer than half an hour.

"You promised me a bath," she reminded him once she had regained enough consciousness to hold a conversation. However, both were so lazy that they could not even resign themselves to move.

"I did?"

"You did." She shifted slightly and let out a small purr.

"Give me a moment." House threw his arm backwards, attempting to grab the bottle of ibuprofen pills sitting on his bedside table. Failing to reach it, he flipped over to his back, bringing Cuddy with him.

"Can I have one?" she asked as he popped the bottle open, throwing two pills into his mouth. He faltered for a second, but decided that he could trust her. One pain pill would not harm her. He nodded and dropped one into her palm. Cuddy turned to her right and held out her arm towards the glass of water that she had left on her bedside table. She grunted in pain, her arm feeling on fire while her muscles stretched out uncomfortably. Like House did previously, she fell onto her back, accessing the table more easily. House fell with her, merely groaning.

She giggled. "You're crushing me." With another lazy groan, he toppled onto his back while she took her medicine. "Thanks," she said, lying back.

He hummed. Out of the tail of her eyes, she witnessed him rubbing his thigh slowly, performing the ritual that he had to repeat every single morning. Even when the pain was rather dull, he had to warm up the muscle before trying to stand up. House sat up, set his feet on the floor and looked around for his rosewood cane, but it was not in the room. As he turned to the bathroom, he seemed to recall he had left it in there. Standing on his feet, he limped heavily to the adjoining room, clutching at the door frame once it was in reach. While he entered the bathroom and slid the door close, Cuddy yawned and rubbed her eyes, then got up and began to gather her clothes scattered across the room. Her sneakers and socks lay at the feet of the bed, a meter away from her pair of pants, which she picked up, folded, and set on the bed, adding her panties and bra, which were lying about on the floor as well. When she retrieved her sweatshirt, a rustling noise caught her attention. Fishing into the large pocket covering part of the front of the garment, she pulled out a piece of yellow paper and unfolded it. It read Pete's name, followed by a cell number – obviously Pete's. With all that she had gone through the day before, the fact that Wilson had given it to her had completely slipped her mind. According to him, Pete had had to leave while she was getting stitched. She had not seen him since she was taken out of the ambulance, and therefore had not had time to thank him for looking after her. Perhaps she ought to call him.

"What is it?" House asked out of curiosity as he walked back in. She could hear water filling the tub.

"Pete's number." She turned to him, saw him frown. "The guy who called the paramedics," she clarified.

"Oh, yeah."

"Is it okay with you if I give him a call?" she asked in an unsure tone.

He shrugged. "Of course. You're a grown-up woman, you're free to do whatever you want." He pretended to pursue on his way to his closet, and then remember something important. "Wait, you're not planning on sleeping with him, are you?"

She sighed, then let a tender smile draw on her lips. She could tell he was jealous, seeing her getting closer to another man. "No, I just want to thank him for yesterday, you silly."

He nodded and opened his cupboard. Cuddy walked to him, wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her cheek on his shoulder blade.

"I think I need distractions, too," he pondered aloud.

"You realised that by looking into your closet?" she asked, raising herself on her toes so as to glance into it above his shoulder. Since he had transferred all his clothes to her place, leaving only the bare minimum at his flat, all he had left was a pair of socks and one of underwear.

"Let's say I go bowling with Wilson," he continued. "While you spend an evening with, uh, Andy."

"Pete!" she corrected him. "Yeah, that sounds good. I should buy him dinner."

"Dinner? Seriously? The guy just called 911 because he saw you faint. Anybody would have done the same!"

She laughed. "Says the one who calls a nurse when his patient starts seizing right under his nose."

"Yeah, well, I'm not anybody!" Cuddy chuckled. She moved to stand in front of him and kissed his lips. "I'm doctor Gregory freakin' House!"

"I know, I know." With a smile, she grabbed his hand and led him towards the bathroom. "Let's take that bath together."

He followed her happily.

* * *

><p><em>TBC...<em>


	36. Chapter 35

_Hi guys! See, I didn't keep you waiting for a whole month, it was only almost three weeks (Nooo, don't hit me! lol). I'll try to update soon, but it depends on how much I'll write on the following days. I'm going back to school on September 5th, and I'll be pretty busy the whole year, so I'd like to have at least one chapter left, just in case. I promise I'll do my best! (The heat is not really helping, though. I just want to spend my days in a cold bath!)  
><em>

_Anyway, **this chapter contains smut**. Yep, again.  
><em>

_Many thanks to IHeartHouseCuddy for correcting this chapter, and to every one of you for reviewing and/or reading. :)  
><em>

_Enjoy!  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Chap<strong>**ter Thirty-Five**_  
><em>

* * *

><p><em>When House drives Cuddy home, Rachel has already arrived from school. Now that both her parents will be home all day, they will only need Marina on few occasions – for instance, a medical appointment preventing them from picking up the kid at school. Both Cuddy and her sitter shed a tear when they say goodbye.<em>

_After drawing Cuddy a hot bath, House sits on the couch with Rachel and reads a few stories with her. Her mother joins them half an hour later, clad in her pyjamas, sprawls on the cushions and would doze off right there if she did not keep her mind busy explaining to her daughter that she will not be going to work for a few months. Even though she took a nap a few hours earlier, fatigue is winning over her. She hopes that unscrambling the hospital's inner workings to Wilson after dinner will not take too much time._

_Indeed, after sharing a meal with his friends and taking note of his boss' advices while the diagnostician puts Rachel to bed, Wilson leaves at a half past nine. Cuddy brushes her teeth and goes straight to bed, falling asleep before House, who joins her a few minutes later. So as to avoid a miscarriage or a premature labour, she knows she will have to spend most of her days lying in bed, probably until her due date in mid-February. To the restless and workaholic woman she is, bed rest is close to torture; nevertheless, she could not wait to snuggle up in her sheets and just sleep._

_She is awakened by the clock. House has set the alarm at seven thirty, in order to wake Rachel up and take her to school._

"_I told you not to wake me up before next week," Cuddy grumbles. He eventually holds out his arm and turns off the alarm._

"_You know, I'd definitely stay here," he says. Her legs are tangled with his own, her arm is desperately gripping his shoulders and her head is resting on his biceps. "But I have to get up."_

"_Give it five minutes."_

_He chuckles. "That's funny. I'm usually the one who begs you for these five extra minutes." She does not even stir, enjoying his presence beside her. "How is Offspring?" he asks, caressing gently her womb with his fingertips._

"_Stop calling her that," she says, keeping her eyes close._

"_She doesn't have a name yet. What do you want me to call her?"_

_She begins to giggle merrily."We're having a girl."_

"_If you keep bragging about it, I swear I'm leaving the bed," he threatens, not in the least serious._

_Cuddy chuckles softly. "You wouldn't."_

"_Wanna bet?"_

"_Yeah," she challenges him. Barely one second has passed by when he gives up._

"_Alright, you win."_

_A peaceful silence follows. House forbids himself to blink, scared that he may fall back to sleep. The cosiness of the bed he shares with his woman carrying his daughter is way too tempting. He wishes he could sink into this cloud of warmth and softness, embracing Cuddy, and just enjoy himself till the end of time. But he has to get up, so as to take care of Rachel._

_Maybe this is what being a father feels like. Selflessly putting his own desires aside in order to be there for his kid._

_He smiles, finding it oddly nice. He is going to be a father. This idea seems so foreign, and yet it has never been so real._

"_I'll measure your blood pressure before I leave," he tells her. She hums. Glancing at the clock, he realises that seven minutes have passed. Shit. At this time, he should already be bathing Rachel. House pecks her forehead softly, before slowly pulling his arm from under her nape._

"_Gotta pee," she blurts out of the blue, panic echoing in her voice. Her heavy womb is dangerously pressing on her bladder. It is a matter of seconds._

_House's ritual on the morning is to swallow two ibuprofen pills and to rub his thigh. Cuddy's is to roll gently to the edge of the bed, push herself into a sitting position, and take a deep breath before heaving herself up onto her feet. Without performing this, she loses her balance and falls back on the bed, earning a protesting kick from Offspring. She learned it to her cost._

_This morning, though, she tries to speed it up as much as possible. So much for the likely collateral damage!_

"_Seriously?" House grumbles, reaching out towards the bottle of pills sitting on his bedside table. "I'm already late. I need to take a piss, too!"_

"_I swear that if I am not sitting on the toilet within the next five seconds, I wet the bed," she threatens, bracing herself to stand up. "And you will be changing the sheets since your offspring is a bit too voluminous to allow me to do it."_

"_Please, go ahead," he says, frightened to death. She almost runs to the bathroom. A few seconds after he heard the distinctive clack of the lid hitting the tank, Cuddy lets out a moan of complete ecstasy. "Aw, God, yes!"_

"_Are you having an orgasm in there?" he calls out, causing her to crack up._

"_I came," she confirms. "Twice!"_

"_Howwws!" Rachel hollers from her bedroom, confused that neither of her parents have picked her up yet._

_Massaging his leg hastily, he eventually stands up. "Duty calls, honeybun," he tells Cuddy through the bathroom door as he passes it._

"_I heard. What did you just call me?"_

"_Don't fall asleep on the seat," he says as he limps away._

"_I'll try, honeybun," she mocks him._

_Five minutes later, he enters the bathroom with the toddler. Thankfully, Cuddy has already disappeared . Before closing the door, he gazes into their bedroom, sees her sprawled on the bed, slipping back into slumber._

"_Howwws, hurry, we gonna be late!" she hears her kid call out. Opening her eyes, she finds House sitting on the edge of the bed, clad in his winter coat._

"_Hold out your arm," he says, brandishing a blood pressure meter._

"_Can't it wait?" she growls, however doing as she is told and sitting up. He quickly inflates the cuff. "You mind getting me a glass of water after that, please?"_

_He is about to respond, but is interrupted by Rachel's footfalls running towards the kitchen._

"_BP's a bit high," he comments, peeling the band off her arm._

"_But not too high."_

"_Does your head hurt? Your stomach?"_

"_I'm fine."_

_House heaves a sigh. "I don't like leaving you alone."_

"_Here, Momma," the toddler cuts them off, her tiny arm threading her way between House and the table. Cuddy smiles and takes the glass her kid is handing to her._

"_Thanks, honey." She takes a sip of water. "You come kiss me?" Rachel nods cheerfully. House grabs her carefully under the armpits and lifts her up onto the bed._

"_Momma, 'you sick?" she asks after dropping a long peck to her mother's cheek._

"_No, I told you, I'm just tired. I'm staying in bed until the baby comes out of my tummy."_

"_All the time?!" Rachel exclaims, both horrified and incredulous._

"_No, not all the time."_

"_Like when your ma has to pee, for example," House intervenes. "She doesn't wet the bed like you."_

"_I don't!" the kid protests._

"_I know," he says, gently ruffling her hair. "I was just teasing you."_

_Rachel pouts. "Silly you."_

_With a smile, Cuddy pulls her daughter into a hug. "See, I can get up when I need to." Then, to House, "Relax. It's only twenty minutes. Nothing will happen to me. You don't have to call the sitter." He cracks a smile._

"_What time is it?" the toddler blurts out, suddenly remembering about school._

"_Ten past eight," Cuddy reads on the clock._

"_I'm late!"_

"_It's okay, school starts in twenty minutes," House attempts in vain to reassure her. Rachel turns to him, staring at his face in total astonishment, as if he just said the most shocking and improbable thing on Earth._

"_Hows, I can't be late and you know it!"_

_He tries his best to restrain himself from bursting out laughing, thinking she does remind him of someone... "Okay, let's go."_

_Rachel kisses her mother tenderly. "Goodbye, Momma."_

"_See you tonight, honey." The kid slides her way out of bed and hurries towards the hallway._

"_She sounds like you when you were too tired to drive and you'd ask me to take you to the hospital," he says, causing Cuddy to chuckle._

"_So, you managed to catch up?"_

"_Yeah, I didn't wash her hair to save some time, hence the ponytail. I suck at it anyway," he sighs. "She either gets shampoo in her eyes or water in her ears."_

"_I'll teach you."_

"_Howwwws!" Rachel insists, shouting from the other end of the house._

"_Comin'!" he replies, before bending over to kiss Cuddy's lips and standing up._

"_She soooo has you at her beck and call," she teases him as he limps away._

"_Oh, shut up!" he whines, disappearing into the corridor. She laughs heartily._

* * *

><p>"There's only one towel left," Cuddy shouted from where she was standing, precisely in front of the open cupboard in House's bedroom.<p>

"Hurry, I'm getting a cold," he yelled back, sitting in the empty bathtub. She returned with the white towel folded on her arm, some scarce droplets of water dropping from her wet hair and to the floor, sliding leisurely along her bare body. House had no other choice but to admire the sight.

"I put your clothes on the bed," she said, setting the towel down on the toilet seat. "Why did you take your towels to our place? I had more than enough for the four of..." Her voice trailed off. "For all of us."

He grabbed the hand she was holding out to him and, with the additional help of the edge of the tub, stood up and stepped over the rim of the ceramic cradle. "If you want it to be our place and not just yours, I need to add some of my stuff."

"Good point," she admitted.

"I left a towel here just in case."

"Well, thank God it's oversized," Cuddy said as she unfolded the large piece of terrycloth. She could easily drape it around the both of them.

"Oh, please, you can call me Greg." She chuckled, pressed her belly to his own and wrapped the towel around his back and then hers, bundling them together.

House held back a grunt. As if the sight of her naked body were not enough, she had to press her breasts on his chest, press her lower stomach on his. He felt blood converge on his already growing erection.

"Now what?" she asked, rousing him from his thoughts.

"Huh?"

"We're not gonna stay here all day."

"Oh, yeah." He reached out and picked up a comb from the shelves. "Bed."

After she craned her neck to cast a glance behind her, she moved back, House following her closely. At every step she took, her crotch was rubbing against his own. He tried his best not to moan. Come on, she had to be feeling him poking her skin!

Once in the bedroom, she turned to him and smiled mischievously, deliberately grinding against him.

"Need a hand?" she asked in a sultry voice. He smirked.

"Why not? I gotta save my last pair of socks."

She gently rotated them, so that he was turning his back to the bed, and raised on her toes so as to nibble slightly his lower lip, while peeling the towel off their waists.

"Sit down," she whispered close, so close to his mouth. He complied happily as she stood naked between his spread legs. "Why don't you just ask for it instead of containing yourself?" she inquired, leaning over to kiss his lips. "Not so long ago, you would have jumped on me."

"It feels," he responded in between short, heated kisses. "A bit. Inap. Propriate."

She sighed, her hand cupping his cheek and travelling down to his neck. "Why? I'm still capable of having sex with you."

"I know." She kissed him again. "I just don't want you to feel forced or anything." Her fingers ran across his torso, approaching dangerously his crotch. He gripped her waist.

"Why is it so complicated between us, now?" Her hot mouth followed the same itinerary as her hand, only much more slowly. Her slender fingers wrapped around his already hard cock, and began to caress it up and down leisurely. He groaned and covered her hand with his own.

"I have no idea," he managed to utter, knowing that it was the last coherent sentence he would be capable of saying for the next minutes.

She smiled, nuzzling the crook of his neck. She took her time to devour his skin with sloppy kisses, biting occasionally, before soothing his shudder with another kiss. She trailed down to his collarbone, then his chest, which she caressed lasciviously with her free hand, barely accelerating the pace with which she stroked his shaft. The slowness was killing him. She sucked a nipple into her hot mouth and eventually dropped to her knees, between his legs. He was throbbing desperately in her hand and, hearing his moans, she knew he needed her to speed it up. She left his nipple alone, nuzzled his sternum and continued towards his bellybutton. House's hands found their way towards her head and his fingers tangled in her wet hair. She licked into his navel, then slid down towards his left groin, where his hip met his thigh. She kissed his skin delicately, caressing his cock no faster than before. He groaned, gripping her curls tightly. Her tongue snaked its way to his balls. His shaft in her fist and his scrotum tickled by her tongue, she looked up at him. His mouth was half-open, letting out his ragged breath, and his head slightly tilted back. Their eyes met. His own were gleaming with a feral spark. So were hers. Maintaining eye-contact with him, she gently pulled one of his balls into her wet, hot mouth. It was too much for him to handle. He closed his eyes, threw his head back and moaned loudly. All he could feel was this warm dampness surrounding the most sensitive part of his body and this hand squeezing his cock up and down softly, all of this thanks to the gorgeous woman kneeling at his feet.

She moved to his left ball and sucked on it as slowly as she had done with the right one. "Cuddy," he soughed, prodding her into picking up pace, which she did. Her tongue slid up to his cock, following her hand closely, until reaching his head, which Cuddy rubbed with her thumb. All the while, she licked his prick up and down, along the pulsating veins that coursed across it. Eventually, she let go of him and immediately circled his glans with her lips, tearing a throaty moan from him. Her hands stroking his inner thighs, she teased him with her tongue, running it across the tip of his shaft in a circular motion. His hips jerked towards her face, demanding more. She bobbed her head up and down, taking a tiny bit more of him into her mouth each time, so as to let the tension build up. He thought he could not wait any longer, but she was so skilled that he knew the conclusion would be all the more mind-blowing.

He was right. She pulled away with a pop, but quickly made herself forgiven by caressing his balls briefly, before slipping her hand lower.

"Oh, fuck," he breathed, bringing his hips to the edge of the mattress and steadying himself by laying a hand on the bed behind his back.

"Enjoying that?" she asked, rubbing him in circles behind his testicles.

"Oh yeah." He could barely find his words, could barely think. She wrapped her free fingers around him again, running her tongue across his throbbing dick.

"Suck me off," he groaned, pulling impatiently at her hair. He tried to make it sound like an order, but they both knew he was begging her. She complied, her mouth engulfing most of him as she kept on massaging his prostate. She moved her head up and down faster, much faster than before. He was close and she knew he could not bear the wait anymore. She hummed against him, moaning occasionally. She loved it just as much as he did.

He nearly came when the thought crossed his mind.

She picked up pace, let out unrestrained throaty growls and wiggled her tongue underneath him. When she raised her eyes and plunged them into his as she was fucking him with her mouth, he felt himself go. The way he was gripping her hair, she knew he was restraining himself from thrusting deeper, so she took as much of him as she could down her throat, gagging slightly at the intrusion and pressing her face to his pelvis.

"Oh, fuck, yeah, Cuddy," he cried out in between loud groans of pleasure. His whole lower stomach was on fire. His eyes squeezed shut, as he was overwhelmed by the intense feeling of ecstasy coursing across each and every one of his nerves. He felt himself shooting hot, long salves of semen down her throat, cumming so hard he thought it would never end. Her throat felt so good squeezing his dick tightly, he wanted to bury himself there forever. Cuddy swallowed his seed as it gushed down her gorge. His thick cock filling her mouth made breathing tricky, but she kept it there for as long as she could, until she had to pull away to catch her breath, however letting him cum some more on her tongue. His hand grasping at her hair relaxed, and his loud moans came to an end. As he slowly came down from his high, Cuddy rested her head on his good thigh. He listlessly fell back onto the bed. She climbed on top of him, laying over his body.

"That was amazing," he breathed, gently taking hold of her waist. She smiled and dropped a peck on his lips. Propping herself up onto her elbow and resting her chin in her palm, she observed him. His eyelids had dropped. He had let a small smile appear on his face, while his rapid, hectic breathing was slowing down to a more peaceful rhythm. She stared in awe.

House drifted back into full consciousness after a few minutes spent absent-mindedly caressing her back with his fingertips, drawing random, absurd patterns on her skin. His eyes, full of love and gratefulness, stared into her own before he gently stroked her cheek and pulled her into a toe-curling kiss. She let him, and kissed back, however pulling away when his hand threaded its way towards her bosom.

"I'm not really in the mood for that," she said, dropping a chaste kiss onto his lips, so as to let him know she, nevertheless, enjoyed the part when their mouths fondled each other.

He nodded, his hand slipping towards her shoulder blade. A smile dwelled on his lips, to which she responded. He loved those moments of intimacy between them, when they would forget about the entire world and merely enjoy each other's presence. And he hated when his stomach reminded him of its emptiness. Just like then. Cuddy chuckled as it rumbled loudly.

"What do you want for lunch?" he asked. She shrugged. "Does that mean you're not hungry or you don't care?"

"I don't care. I'm kinda starving, though."

He acquiesced, and his eyes gleamed like those of a child imagining what Santa would drop at the feet of the Christmas tree for him. "How about a pizza?"

"Sounds perfect." She smiled and rolled off of him, so that he could crawl towards his bedside table. He picked up his cell phone and turned it on. Much to his surprise, it vibrated. Who could have texted him during the night? Maybe his team panicking in the middle of a case.

No texts from his team; on the other hand, he had missed three calls. From Arlene.

Shit.

"Your mom called," he told Cuddy. "Three times." Intrigued, she slithered beside him and looked down at the screen, rubbing her moist hair with the towel. All of a sudden, his phone went off, startling them. "Speaking of the devil," he muttered, glancing at the caller's ID, before reality struck him. "Oh shit, it's her! She's calling!" he yelled, slightly panicky, then took a deep breath, and picked up. "Hello?"

"Finally you answer your cell phone! What the hell have you been doing?" Arlene 'greeted' him in an exasperated tone.

"Well, sorry about that," he apologized, not in the least meaning it. He did not know whether she would believe it or not, and frankly he did not care. "We were, uh, sleeping."

"At two in the afternoon?" she asked.

"What do you mean, two in the afternoon?" Both him and Cuddy turned to the clock. Indeed, it was ten past two. "Oh." Then he furrowed his brows. She was supposed to drop Rachel in the afternoon. She must be calling for a reason. "Why are you calling?"

Arlene sighed. "What do you think? I'm in front of Lisa's place!"

"In front? Why not inside?"

"Because I don't have a key," she whined. "Thank God I took my car. Without my heater, Rachel would have caught a cold for sure! We've been waiting for an hour, you see."

Cuddy, who had pressed her ear on the phone in order to listen to the conversation, heaved a weary sigh and grabbed House's cell.

"Mom, there's a spare key under the flower pot next to the doormat," she intervened. As she expected, her mother started to complain.

"Lisa, you shouldn't leave spare keys so close to your entry door! You have a daughter. It's not safe. It's like you leave your door wide open!"

House took back his phone. "Look, we'll be there in twenty minutes."

"And why aren't you already here anyway?"

Cuddy cast him a panicked look. He gave her a nod, thus promising he would keep her secret safe and come up with a lie. If Arlene found out that her daughter had been in the hospital, if only briefly, she would deduce that House was not the right man for her, and would never leave the couple alone. During Cuddy's pregnancy, he had proved that he was capable of taking care of her, and her mother had managed to accept it. He could not afford to betray her trust, even if, ironically, it involved lying to her. "Well, since you were keeping Rachel, we thought we could spend the night at my apartment and–"

"How does where you sleep matter?" she cut him off. "Whether it's your apartment or her house, it's all the same! You're supposed to be at home when I drop Rachel!"

"Yeah, in the afternoon!" he retorted. Would she ever stop complaining? "I might be wrong, but one o'clock is a tiny bit too early."

"I can't keep the kid all day, I have stuff to do this afternoon!"

He held back a harsh comment. Perhaps he should end the call if he wanted to avoid causing an incident. The woman was obnoxious anyway, but today she had broken her own record. "Twenty minutes," he said, before hanging up.

He put his phone down on the bedside table. Both he and Cuddy let out a long sigh.

"So much for a pizza," she spoke up.

"Yeah, we won't have time. Looks like we're gonna have lunch at home," he replied, before exclaiming, "Oh, damn! I should have asked your mother to cook something for us."

"'You suicidal?" Cuddy scoffed, causing him to chuckle. She smiled and picked up the comb sitting on the edge of the bed.

* * *

><p><em>TBC...<em>


	37. Chapter 36

_Hi guys, I'm the one who left you alone for almost two months *runs away under a hail of stones* *finds the chapter hidden under a ton of homework* *puts it on the table and escapes from yet another hail of stones*  
><em>_Alright, this pretty much summarized it. As I expected, I don't have much time to write this year, probably not even during the holidays two weeks from now. But I did write, however, let's say, a quarter of the next chapter. So, I don't know when I'll be able to update again, but I'll do my best. We'll see. I'm so sorry. I know it sucks :(  
>I'd like to thank IHeartHouseCuddy for her great help, and all of you for your reviews and support. It means a lot to me. :)<br>_

* * *

><p><em>1018/12 : Oops, forgot some disclaimers. The Hitchcock shirt does exist IRL. It was designed by Dan Elijah Fejardo and Peter Kramar (It was available on the Internet at some point, but apparently it's not anymore, sooo... I don't know).  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Th<strong>**irty-Six**_  
><em>

* * *

><p>House whined as he caught a glimpse of Arlene's car parked in their driveway. He would have to stop Cuddy's black Lexus halfway on the sidewalk and wait until the elder woman had left to drive it into the garage.<p>

He shut off the engine. Cuddy sighed and rubbed her forehead.

"Ready?" he asked.

"You could say that."

He offered her an encouraging smile when she turned to him. "Come on, it's just your mom."

"That's not very reassuring."

He leaned towards her and kissed her lips tenderly. As he pulled away, he noticed the thin line of stitches bordering her hairline, which he concealed by drawing one of her raven curls over it. The last thing they needed was Arlene questioning those recent-looking sutures. Cuddy smiled shyly at the attention. Eventually, she decided to go. They unfastened their seatbelts, stepped out of the car and slammed the doors. As they made their way towards the entrance of her house, the diagnostician fumbled in his coat pockets in search of his keys. He eventually laid his hand on them and they walked in carefully. At that time of the day, Rachel must be taking a nap.

Their assumption was right. They had barely been inside when Arlene appeared from the living-room.

"Shh! Rachel is sleeping," she whispered.

"I know that, Mom," Cuddy replied in the same tone, noiselessly shutting the door. "Good afternoon to you, too."

House peeled off his woollen coat and hung it in the closet, revealing the short-sleeved tee-shirt he was wearing in spite of the chilly February weather. Arlene frowned and paid more attention to her daughter's outfit. An oversized sweatshirt and jogging pants?

"What have you two been doing?" she asked, bewildered.

Cuddy rolled her eyes. She had expected it. "None of your business."

While she took time to undo her laces, House merely kicked his shoes off and headed towards the corridor. "Gonna get changed," he announced. The youngest Cuddy nodded and walked into the kitchen, her mother hard on her heels.

"How come he's changing clothes in the middle of the day?"

Cuddy deflected, "How did it go with Rachel?"

"Fine."

"'Fine'? That's it?" she asked, setting two empty glasses on the kitchen table, where her mother had sat down.

"Well, she got out of school at the usual time," she detailed as she slid one of the glasses closer to her. "Ate almost all of her broccoli, and slept the whole night through. I couldn't expect it to go better. And yes, I'd like some water. Thank you, sweetie."

Cuddy coldly snatched the recipient from her hands and laid it back on the table. "These glasses are for House and I."

After a brief silence, Arlene brought back the previous topic. "Why weren't you here at one o'clock?"

"House told you," her daughter said, opening a drawer. "We overslept."

"Are you sure? Maybe you didn't and you were dreading to see your daughter," she insisted. "It's okay, Lisa. After what happened, it's understandable that you lose your confidence. You can tell me."

Cuddy angrily dropped the cutlery on the table.

"I need to speak to you outside," she said in the bossy tone she had not used in ages. She headed towards the entry door, the elder woman following her without complaining – much to her surprise – and left it ajar after they had stepped outside.

"Is he taking good care of you?" Arlene asked before her daughter had a chance at uttering anything.

"I –" she stammered, taken aback by her sudden question and unexpected kindness. "What – How is this related –"

"Your sister is worried about you," Arlene cut her off. "You haven't called her in a week."

"I didn't have time." She then sighed, knowing her mother expected an answer to her previous question. "Yeah. Yeah, Mom, he's doing great."

"Does he make you happy?"

It did not take House long to get rid of his clothes and change into clean ones, adding a cerulean shirt above a white-tee shirt depicting Alfred Hitchcock sitting on a bench surrounded by multicoloured birds. He limped back into the hallway and, surprised to see the door ajar, went to close it, hearing voices as he grabbed the doorknob.

"Does he make you happy?" Arlene was asking her daughter. He knew she was talking about him. He could not help listening discretely to the conversation, hoping he would not regret it later.

"You mean right now?" Cuddy inquired, before heaving a sigh. She took a horribly long time to think about her reply. "No," she admitted in a murmur. "I'm not happy right now." She cleared her throat and raised her voice. "But it's not his fault. I'm not happy, but I think I would have been more miserable without him. Without his help." Arlene did not answer. House conjectured that she had simply given her a nod. "We're healing. Slowly, but we are. We'll get through it. I'm sure about that."

"That's good."

"We're going to see his shrink soon. And we're planning to move out."

"Not too far from here?"

"No, we're staying in Princeton." After a few seconds, Cuddy added, "I'm glad House is by my side. I don't know what I'd do without him." Then, barely above a whisper, "He saved me."

He grinned. His wide smile, however, faded as she pushed the door open when he least expected her to. She was as startled as he was to see him standing in front of her. Her eyes quickly searched into his own. Had he heard everything? How was he going to react? He distinguished a hint of dread in her look, as if she were fearing he might panic. She was putting too much responsibility on his shoulders. But he would not be scared. He was not scared of her feelings anymore.

"How about spaghetti for lunch?" he suggested with a slight smile.

She beamed. "Okay." Then, turning to her mother, "'You staying with us?"

"Thank you, no," she refused. "I already had lunch. I'm going to leave." Followed by her daughter, Arlene stepped into the house, grabbed her purse and coat, which she slipped on as she turned to House. "You couldn't help eavesdropping, could you?"

"Of course not," he admitted. "Just wanted to make sure you weren't badmouthing me."

Arlene smirked. "Satisfied?"

"Pretty much."

She acknowledged it with a nod. "Anyway, I have to go," she said, patting his shoulder. "See you, Greg." Cuddy observed them with a hint of amusement. He seemed surprised by her sudden kindness. "Thanks for saving my daughter."

Arlene moved on to her daughter, as if she had not purely and simply astounded the diagnostician. When he recovered from the shock, the elderly woman was gone, the door was closed, and Cuddy was staring up at him with a wide smile on her lips and pride in her eyes.

"What did you do to her?" he asked. She chuckled softly, shrugged her shoulders and let her arms fall back along her body in an I-don't-know gesture.

"Who cares?" She took his hand and led him into the kitchen. He offered no resistance. "I'm starving." While she added two plates and as many towels on the table, House filled a saucepan with tap water and placed it on the hotplate. "I should get changed," Cuddy decided after spending a moment standing beside House in front of the cooker, merely watching the water warm up slowly.

"Seriously?" He pulled at the collar of her sweater, easily revealing her bare shoulder, which he kissed swiftly. "I like my sweatshirt on you." She smiled, rolled her eyes and turned away. "Stay sexy," he called out as she exited the room. She walked back in clad in a pair of jeans and a black woollen jersey, causing House to scowl. "That's your definition of sexy?"

She sneaked up behind him and wrapped her thin arms around his waist. "What, you'd have preferred me in a thong?"

"I would have preferred you naked, actually."

She smirked and nuzzled his ribs. "In your dreams. Water's not boiling yet?"

He gazed down at the pan. Tiny bubbles were rising from the abyss of the recipient, only to disappear when they reached the surface. "Barely. Get me the pack of spaghetti, would you?"

She fetched it into a cupboard. A minute later, larger bubbles were rushing up from their nests and bursting as they met the atmosphere. House turned on the hood and grabbed a handful of pasta. Cuddy pouted.

"I'd add some more," she commented, plunging her hand into the box in order to get her own handful, smaller than House's.

He nodded. "So, since they won't fit into the saucepan..." He grabbed both ends of the yellow strings and broke them in two.

"Fascinating," she teased him playfully, before splitting her spaghetti as well. He reduced the heat and threw his spaghetti into the boiling water. "Time for baby handful of spaghetti to have a bath," he said, gesturing towards the pasta in her hands. A flash of melancholy crossed her features, which did not go unnoticed, before she allowed her spaghetti to follow their destiny.

"I had almost forgotten," she murmured, staring absent-mindedly at the saucepan. She felt almost guilty for enjoying herself. Forgetting about Mary meant she was doing some progress, she was well aware of it. She also knew that getting over it was a synonym for bidding adieu. She had no idea if she were ready to move on and abandon her late daughter. She sighed. She should want to move on. Why could not she resign herself to cease lingering in such misery?

House dismissed her sad thoughts by pulling a fork from a drawer.

"You need to stir the pasta," he said, brandishing the set of cutlery like an ultimate weapon. "So that they don't stick to the saucepan."

Cuddy cocked an eyebrow. "Are you seriously giving me a cooking class?"

"You obviously haven't tasted your own spaghetti."

"That's just mean." She punched his shoulder playfully. He pretended to be hurt.

"I would have said 'realistic'."

He moved behind her, grabbed her hand and put it on the handle of the fork, then covered it with his own and dove the utensil into the water.

"See, you do it gently, just like that," he carried on, moving the fork clockwise.

"This is ridiculous." They cracked up, however kept on agitating the pot quietly together.

"I'll call Nolan after lunch."

"Okay," she acquiesced.

"I understand you have some phone calls to make, too."

"Yep."

And they kept on stirring peacefully.

"Wilson offered me my job back," she blurted.

"Okay," House simply acknowledged.

"I don't know what to do," she continued. "He said we'd start by working together, then he would leave me on my own for half a day, and finally I would go back full time. Maybe I should talk about it with your shrink." This time, he did not respond, keeping on stirring the pot. She felt her throat tighten. She would trust a man she did not even know to solve such a simple problem, to answer the silly question that was 'Am I ready to go back to work?' It was unfair to House. He gave excellent advices. He helped her see the truth everywhere. He was honest with her. Furthermore, if they stopped chatting about such casual matters, it would lead to the end of them, one way or another. She did not hide anything from him, and she hoped he did not hold back anything from her as well. "What do you think I should do?" she asked him eventually.

He shrugged. "That depends. Are you ready to handle the pressure? To go to the hospital early and come back home late?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I don't know what I want to do. But if I stay inert, I'll never get better."

He paused, mentally deliberating. The rhythm with which he moved the fork slightly slowed down. "You should wait. Don't go back unless you really want to."

She nodded, convinced. "Thanks."

* * *

><p><em>Rachel is sitting pensively at the table in the dining-room. Her mom has been home for three days now, and she barely gets out of her room. She sleeps all day, including when her daughter and House come back from school. Even though she joins them for dinner and stays until the diagnostician puts the kid into bed, Rachel misses her mommy a lot.<em>

_She heaves a sigh and rests her jaw in her palms._

"_What's up, kiddo?" House asks, taking a seat beside her._

"_I'm bored," she whines. He has just driven her home and yet it feels like she has been sitting here for hours._

"_How about we read a story?" he suggests. Rachel considers it briefly and shakes her head. "Jigsaw puzzle?" She refuses. "Feed-The-Monkey? Blocks? Colorings?" She turns down each of his propositions. "I could play the piano," he insists. "Or the guitar."_

"_I want Momma."_

"_She's taking a nap, right now. We can't wake her up."_

_Rachel's eyes mist up with tears. "But I want my Momma," she argues with a sob in her voice. Immediately, House's expression grows blatantly concerned. He rises, lifts the toddler into his arms and sits on the chair she previously occupied, setting the kid on his left thigh._

"_Look," he says in a soft voice as she rubs her moist eyes with her tiny fists. "Your Momma is carrying your little sister in her tummy."_

"_I know."_

"_And it's very tiring for her," he continues. "You see, everything she does, she has to do it for both her and the baby. Eating, drinking, sleeping, breathing. And because she had a lot of work to do at the hospital, she is twice as much tired. So she needs to catch up. Do you understand?"_

"_Yeah," Rachel acquiesces._

_He smiles. "Don't worry, she'll be up and about soon, and she'll be able to play with you again."_

"_'You sure?"_

"_Yeah."_

_Then an idea pops into her head. "I could make Momma a drawing!" she exclaims._

"_Sounds like a good idea," he approves with a smile._

_Rachel promptly slides down to the floor, and runs towards her bedroom. A moment later, she rushes back in with her pencils and crayons, as well as a few sheets of paper, which she hands to the diagnostician. He sets her stuff on the table as she climbs onto his lap, mindful of his bad leg. He holds her tiny waist delicately, making sure she does not topple over._

"_So what do I do?" she asks, in front of her blank page._

"_I don't know," he shrugs. "It's your drawing."_

"_You're not helping."_

_He thinks about it for a second, lacking in inspiration as much as she does. "Why don't you draw things she likes?"_

"_She'll get better if she sees things she likes!" Rachel exclaims, struck by an epiphany._

"_What does she like?" he asks. The kid grabs her yellow pencil and shoves its lead on the upper left corner of the paper._

"_The sun."_

"_That's true. Everybody loves the sun." A vaguely circle-shaped spot appears on the paper. "It even makes people happy."_

_She turns to him. "Because they love it?"_

"_It's the sunlight, actually," he explains. "Don't you feel a bit sad when it's cloudy for a few days?"_

"_Kinda." She widens her sun, which reaches the dimension of a gold medal._

"_So, she likes the sun. What else?" he encourages her._

"_You!" _

_He cracks a smile. "She likes you, too."_

_Rachel drops her yellow pencil and picks the black one, before eventually choosing a forest green crayon. She covers the bottom of the page with a thin, emerald layer._

"_Grass?"_

"_Yeah," she nods._

_Then, House watching her with great interest, she retrieves the black pencil she set aside earlier, and draws a slightly crooked vertical line, on top of which she adds a circle, almost touching the sun. The vertical line, crossed by an horizontal one in its approximative middle, reaches the grass thanks to two diagonals attached to its end._

"_Is that me?" he asks with a frown._

"_Yeah."_

"_I'm not that tall!"_

"_You're a giant, Hows. You can touch the ceiling!" she argues. "On my toes, I can't touch the ceiling."_

_He smiles. "Don't worry, you're not done growing up yet. Maybe you'll be so tall that you won't even pass the door."_

_She giggles. With a brown pen, she traces at the end of House's arm a curve that looks like a lower-case rho written nonchalantly._

"_Forgot your wooden leg," she says. She then draws a smaller, much smaller character than House, barely as tall as his legs. The diagnostician identifies this new protagonist as Rachel herself. Carried away by her inspiration, she adds a third person, taller than herself but still smaller than House. A semicircle stretched between the horizontal line of the arms and the meeting point of the diagonal legs represents a round stomach._

"_Cuddy," House says to himself, with a tender smile on his lips._

"_Did I forget something?" the toddler asks, worried that her piece of art may not be perfect. He takes a closer look at her drawing._

"_We don't have hair," he notices, among other things. Her characters are also faceless and do not wear clothes._

_Two black zigzags departing from the crown of Cuddy's head will do the trick for her curls. Rachel simply draws a brown, reversed U onto the circle on top of her body. House is endowed with a few lines of the same colour, separated in two parts by a blank left on top of his head._

"_That's good, but why do I seem to have so little hair?" he inquires._

"_Because you do!"_

"_I do?"_

"_You got a hole on your head."_

_He passes his hand over the bald at the back of his skull. He has been paying attention to his falling hair, occasionally letting out a sigh when he examines it in the mirror, but somehow Rachel noticing it makes it all the more real and blatant. "Just wait till you grow white hair," he teases her, ruffling her hair. She chuckles._

"_Wait, you have grey hair, too!" she exclaims, turning around to look at him more closely._

"_No no no no no no no no," he whines as she grabs her grey pencil and adds short lines to the ones she already drew. She giggles triumphantly._

_He knows he will never see her grow white hair. Considering his many years of drug and alcohol abuse, he will not grow older than seventy, perhaps eighty if he is lucky. Which means he has roughly twenty or thirty years left to live. More or less. Even his chronic pain is part of the equation. How long will he be able to endure it? He has been in pain for a decade. He does not really see himself suffering for ten more years._

_He will not watch his daughters grow old. Even Cuddy will have to grow old without him by her side. Cuddy is younger than he is and leads a healthy lifestyle. She is likely to hear her daughters complain about growing white hair. She will live much longer than House, perhaps even celebrate her one hundredth birthday, why not? The only comfort he can find is that, by disappearing from Earth before her, he will not have to live through her death and eternal absence. He is aware that it is selfish to leave her going through his own death, but he simply would not bear her decease. He cannot even fathom the idea. A life without Cuddy simply does not exist. Even in the farthest parallel universe._

_He wonders if he is too old to be a daddy. He has already grown grey hair, lost some of them. He is fifty years older than his children, which equals over two generations. Rachel and Offspring will barely be adults when he dies. Will he live long enough to see them graduate from high school? College? Fall in love for the first time? Move away from home? What about the father he will be for them as children? Teenagers? Being a cripple does not make fatherhood easy. Being an ageing cripple will make him a burden more than a daddy. He will not be playing soccer or baseball or basketball or whatever with them, will not be able to stand up for too long; unfortunately, most outdoors activities require queuing at some point. And what if their friends mistake him for their grandfather when he drops or picks them up at school?_

"_Hows?" Rachel calls out, tearing him from his thoughts. He hums. "You like?"_

_He looks down at her paper. While he was lost in his thoughts, she drew black, wide Vs in the sky. "Sure, it's beautiful." He is sincere. Her drawing is the simple and typical drawing of a three-year-old, but it carries a beautiful meaning; House, Cuddy, Rachel and Offspring being a happy, united family. "What are these things in the sky?"_

"_Birds."_

"_Obviously," he smiles._

_Rachel speaks up after a brief silence. "Hows?" He acquiesces. "I want to write to Momma to get better soon. Can't do it."_

_He pulls a blank sheet from the pile of papers she brought. "Yes, you can. Try on a draft first."_

_She nods, picks a red crayon and traces random waves on the draft. She giggles as she turns to House._

"_That's not exactly it," he smiles. Then, gesturing towards her crayon, he asks, "May I?" She gives it to him. "Get... Better... Soon..." he spells as he writes down these words in capital letters. "Copy me," he says, handing her the crayon._

_She sighs. "Too hard!"_

"_Come on, try!" he encourages her. "You'll see, it's easy!"_

_She slides her drawing towards him. "You do it."_

"_But it's your drawing," he protests._

"_I want to do it with you."_

"_Fine," he gives up willingly, writing 'Get better soon' with an exclamation mark._

"_Thank you Hows." She drops a kiss on his cheek. Just as they are finished, Cuddy's lazy footfalls echo in the corridor._

"_Here comes Sleeping Beauty!" House welcomes her._

"_Seriously? I think I liked Crocodile better. Hi guys," she greets them as she walks in, clad in a sweatshirt and pyjamas pants. Seeing her at last, Rachel grins. Her mother first pecks House's lips, then wraps her arms around her kid's frame, pulling her into a hug. "Hi, honey," she mumbles into her chestnut hair, which she kisses afterwards. "I missed you today."_

"_Me too, Momma." Enjoying her mother's embrace, Rachel forgets about her excitement to give her drawing to her. Thankfully, House reminds her by discretely waving the paper. She catches a glimpse of the sheet out of the tail of her eye. "Momma, we made a drawing for you!" she exclaims._

"_Really?" She unclasps her arms. The toddler hands her the drawing with a proud smile. "It's beautiful, honey! You're such an artist," she compliments her. "You know what? I'm going to hang it in my room, so that it is always with me!"_

"_Okay." Rachel tries to keep a cool façade, but she cannot help giggling with joy._

"_Thank you. It's very sweet of you." She kisses her daughter on the cheek._

"_Don't I get a kiss, too?" House whines, causing her to smile._

"_Don't be such a baby," she says, before pressing her mouth on his own. "Can you fetch me a clip-frame tomorrow?" He nods._

"_What's a clip-frame?" Rachel asks out of curiosity._

_Cuddy takes a seat at the table, her body already strained. "It's a glass that protects a picture," she explains. "You slide the picture between the glass and a frame, and then you clip the glass to the frame, and you can hang it on a wall."_

"_Cool."_

"_Isn't it?"_

"_Momma, come play with me," Rachel demands shyly after a short pause, fearing she might refuse. Against all odds, she accepts._

"_Sure, but let me grab a bite first. I'm kinda hungry."_

"_Me, too. I could use some cake."_

_Cuddy chuckles, then gestures towards the kitchen. Rachel slithers down to the floor cheerfully. As her mother stands up, House opens his mouth but she cuts him off, "Yes, you can come too, you big baby." She smiles and so does he. Leaning on his cane, he gets on his feet and follows his girls. _

_She stops halfway and turns around to him. "Are you al- Ow,"she tries to ask him, before being interrupted by Offspring. He giggles. "Are you alright? You seem a little thoughtful."_

_He leans over and lays a hand on her stomach. "You shouldn't kick your Mom like that. It's not very nice of you."_

"_House," she insists. "Just tell me if anything –"_

"_'You comin'?" Rachel calls out from the kitchen._

_House looks down at Cuddy's swollen belly and then into her eyes. "Yeah. I'm alright," he assures her with a smile. She grabs his hand and leads him into the kitchen._

* * *

><p><em>TBC...<br>_


	38. Chapter 37

_Hello everyone! So sorry for taking so long to update. I said I'd do my best, and I did; but school being school and teachers being teachers, I've been lacking time to even consider writing. However, I managed to write most of next chapter, so I may be able to publish it in less than two months. Anyway, I hope that you will enjoy this chapter._

_The song mentioned towards the end of the first part is _You Give Me Hope_ by Ryan Kirkland. Which is a very nice piece of music. Listening to it is highly recommended._

_Thank you all for your adorable reviews; especially IHeartHouseCuddy for also taking a look at this chapter._

_And a very happy new year. :)_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Thirty-Seven<strong>

* * *

><p>When Rachel woke from her nap, Cuddy was in a conversation with her sister in the living-room. House knew it because he heard her sigh a lot. He, on the other hand, had just gotten an appointment with Nolan scheduled on the following Monday.<p>

He pondered about her choice of phone calls. Cuddy dreaded to call her sister; she had to pretend that everything was fine, that she was not tearing apart, and in her state, she barely knew where she found the strength to keep a stiff upper lip. And yet she had dialled Julia's number before Pete's. Cuddy usually started with the most tedious tasks so as to just get it over with, whether it was at home or at the hospital. It was the way she functioned. However, being weak, she would probably quail and lose heart, postponing what she was the most scared of. He would not be surprised to see her take a few deep breaths before pushing the call button afterwards and reach Pete. His gift in deduction hit a wall. He was confused. Either Cuddy was stronger than he thought, or she had lost enough confidence to fear calling a stranger. Stranger? From what Wilson had told him, Cuddy had seemed pretty comfortable with the guy. Furthermore, she intended to offer him some dinner, and not just a drink, because she was at ease with him. She could bear more than a few minutes perched on a barstool in his company.

He decided that he was overthinking, and she had called Julia first so as to get it over with. He did not know if he liked Cuddy being friendly with another man, though. He could not place a name of that feeling. But he was not jealous, certainly not! He winced at the idea.

"Howwws," Rachel called out as she ran down the corridor. He smiled. That adorable brat was the most effective way to dismiss his unwelcome thoughts. She threw herself against his legs. House lifted her up and pulled her into a hug.

"Hi, you bloody scallywag!" he greeted her.

"Missed you." She kissed his cheek noisily.

"Yeah, me too." She pulled back and looked at him with a giggle. "Your grandma put you in your pajamas," he observed. She nodded. He gently put her down to the floor. "What's the point? Pajamas are for the night."

"I to'd her," she said.

"She didn't agree," House deduced.

"Nah."

He rolled his eyes. "Come on, let's go get you changed."

As they headed towards her bedroom, Cuddy ended her call. She caught a brief glimpse of the diagnostician glancing at her, and offered him a smile. When they returned, Rachel clad in her favourite pink sweater and a pair of jeans, House heard the Dean chuckling. "Don't bother picking me up, I'm inviting you!"

She seemed comfortable with him. House had his answer. Not the one he wished, unfortunately. It was terribly selfish and he loathed himself for thinking such a thing, but he did not want her to be fine. Of course, he did not want her miserable either, but if she healed before he did, she would probably seek something other than sorrow. And she'd fetch it somewhere else, because he would not be able to offer her what she needed. He knew he could not possibly have the means to hold her back.

He attempted to shut out his feelings as much as possible, but it did not help. He was jealous. He should be the one distracting her and taking her out to dinner. Then he realized he had never, ever, taken Cuddy to dinner. They would have cheap breakfasts in diners from time to time, he would cook when they were not lazy enough to order in, alright, but that was it. Dates weren't his thing. He would rather enjoy a pizza or Chinese takeout in front of a dumb comedy with her. But Cuddy, she was a romantic. Although she had never asked, perhaps fearing he might refuse, she probably wanted him to take her to some fancy restaurant downtown requiring a dress code and proposing ridiculously expensive food, wanted him to act like a gentleman picking her up at her place. He was nothing close to a gentleman. How many times had he made her cry? Yell?

He hated that another man would please her by doing what he could not resign himself to do because he was such an idiot.

"Okay, eight sounds good. ...right. I'll see you on Monday, then." They entered the living-room as she hung up, a smile on her face. House sighed inwardly and averted his eyes from her. "Hi, honey," she greeted her daughter, who responded with the usual wide grin. Cuddy knelt down before her and gave her a kiss. "Did you have fun at Grandma's?"

"Yeah. What were you doin', Momma?"

"I was on the phone with a friend," she said.

"A friend?"

"Yeah. I'm going out for dinner with him two days from now," she explained quietly. House stood nearby without uttering a word. "So you'll spend the evening with House and I'll be back while you're asleep. Is that okay with you?"

The toddler nodded. "Yeah, Momma, you have fun."

"Just not too much fun," House muttered under his breath. Cuddy immediately looked up at him with a puzzled look.

Rachel, oblivious to what he had said, turned to him and asked, "Can we have dinner with a friend, too?"

"Like uncle Wilson?" House suggested. Wilson was his only friend anyway. Maybe that was the problem – Wilson was his only friend. He was also Cuddy's only friend. Wasn't she drifting away from House by making friends with an outsider to their social circle?

"Yeah," Rachel acquiesced with excitement.

"Sure, invite him over," Cuddy encouraged him. "Rachel hasn't seen him in a while. Besides, I'm sure he'll enjoy the break."

"Looks like everyone will be enjoying a break, then." Her brow furrowed further. "I'll give him a call," he accepted.

"Cool," Rachel approved. "Momma, you come play with me?"

"Sure, I'd love to," she smiled, before rising and following her into the corridor. House grabbed her wrist as she passed him. "I'll be there in a second, honey," she called out to her kid before turning to him.

"I had Nolan on the phone," he said. "He can see us on Monday."

"This Monday? That's earlier that what I'd thought," she said with a frown. Her anxiety was blatant.

"Well, that's good news, isn't it?" He would not let go of her. "The sooner we see him..."

"Yeah," she conceded. "Okay. We'll go on Monday." Silence settled between them. Cuddy looked into his eyes. "You don't really want me to see Pete, do you?"

"What? Of course I do," he denied hastily. "Why wouldn't I want you to have friends?"

"You're jealous," she replied with a tender smirk. "You want me all for yourself. You're scared he'll become more than a friend to me."

He looked anywhere but at her. "I'm not. You said I could trust you."

"And you can trust me," she iterated in a soft tone, her fingers lacing with his own. Rachel, getting impatient, called her mother from her bedroom. "Relax, I'm not going to ask him for a massage." His jaw tensed visibly. Cuddy rose on her toes and kissed House's lips tenderly. When she pulled away, she waited until he stared into her eyes. "I'm all yours," she whispered, offering him a small smile, which he gave back. As she walked away, she slowly let go of his hand, her fingers caressing his own lovingly.

He emitted a sigh of contentment. But it was not enough to soothe his irrational fears. He could, however, try to clear his head. He threaded his way towards the piano squeezed in between the couch and the wall, sat on the bench and lifted the lid carefully. His hands skimmed the keyboard slowly and, absent-mindedly, he hit a few keys at random, as though playing aloud the thoughts he was lost in. Doubting Cuddy made no sense. The more he thought about it, he came to realise that she was not the one he distrusted; Pete was. After all, not only had he called the paramedics and waited for them with her, he had also followed her to the hospital to make sure she was taken care of. Pete was obviously driven by an urge of protectiveness towards Cuddy, just like House himself. He had fallen for the damsel in distress.

His mind wandered back towards Cuddy. Cuddy crying her heart out the night before. Cuddy finding shelter in his arms. Cuddy shouting into their bedroom that she loved him. His lips curved into a smile. In these moments, he was certain that they were capable of rising from the darkness they were drowning in. They could recover. They would recover. No matter how hard it would be, no matter how long it would take. Seeing Cuddy so carefree was a glimpse, albeit fleeting, of their future healing. It was enough to give him faith and confidence.

The piano did not seem to fit his hopeful mood. Too loud, too forlorn, seeming to disturb the peaceful quietness of his home. A quietness as brittle as their healing. It reminded him of lonely nights in his apartment, a bottle of Scotch for sole company. Those days were past. He pushed the lid down gently. "Sorry," he whispered to the grand piano. "Maybe another time." He rose and limped out of the living-room and into the corridor, pausing as he passed Rachel's room. He stood in the doorway without a word. Cuddy and Rachel were piling up blocks carefully – well, Rachel was piling up the blocks that her mother was handing to her. Their multicoloured tower was barely a dozen blocks high, and it was wobbling dangerously. A block later, the structure collapsed, and the cubes rained down on the carpet.

"Oh no!" Cuddy yelped. Her kid burst out laughing, and she followed soon after. "Well, we'll just have to do it again, and again," she enumerated, gathering the cubes. "And again, and again."

"And again," Rachel continued.

"What are you girls doing?" House asked.

"Building the highest tower ever," Rachel replied enthusiastically.

"Up to the ceiling," Cuddy added with a smile.

"Cool," he said. "How are you gonna add the last blocks though?"

Rachel hawed for a second. "You can do it. You're tall. But it can't stop falling!"

"Keep trying," he encouraged her. "You'll see, you'll succeed in the end. I'll be right next door."

Cuddy smiled at him. He walked away and stepped into the bedroom, leaving the door ajar. Resting against the side of the dresser sat two guitar cases. He picked one, retrieved the instrument carefully. He then limped to the bed, plumped down on the mattress and set the curve of the guitar's body on his right lap, his left hand gripping its neck. Holding his guitar felt remotely foreign to him. He had not had the occasion to tickle its strings in a month, perhaps even two. He ran his palm across its body, gathering a thin layer of dust. Once again, his thoughts wandered involuntarily towards Cuddy. The guitar's curvy body was hers. His hand nestled into its crook like it would nestle into her waist. The wide, round end of the instrument was her womb. He plucked the six nylon strings one after the other. Each note was Cuddy's voice. A chord was her melodious laugh. She'd laugh every time he played a song. His hand strolled quietly across his guitar. The wood was as soft and silky as her skin. Absent-mindedly, his fingers pressing some strings on the fretboard, he hugged his guitar and realised that he was playing. Snippets of songs he had learn years, decades ago, lost somewhere in his memory. He closed his eyes, let his hands play for him, and allowed himself to get carried away.

The laughters next door had faded, but House did not notice. Rachel pricked up her ears, paying close attention to the peaceful music playing in her parents' room.

"House is playing the guitar," Cuddy whispered, fiddling with an orange block.

"Yeah."

"It's been a while."

"Yeah." Rachel took the piece of wood and added it to the small pile of blocks she had erected, but she was blatantly distracted. Her interest was sparked. "Can we watch?" she asked eventually.

Cuddy put down the cube she had just picked. "I don't know," she said in a low voice. "You know he doesn't really like having an audience." He was happy to play tunes whenever the kid asked him to, but if it came to playing when he was lost in his thoughts, he preferred to be alone. Perhaps he feared that his mind could be read through the music he would play.

"Why not?"

She shrugged. "It's who he is."

"Please," Rachel insisted with a pout. Cuddy yielded. House kept on playing, oblivious to the girls' scheme.

"You know, I really want to see him play, too." Her daughter grinned. "But we are going to hide, okay?" she murmured.

"Okay," Rachel replied in a sough. They rose, padded into the corridor and stood behind the door left ajar. They could easily watch House, whose back was turned to the door, without being seen. Although he was too involved in his music to hear them – Cuddy knew it because he was humming –, they were careful not to make a noise. His arm would move leisurely to sweep at the strings, sometimes only pinching them. While Rachel observed him with wide eyes, Cuddy leant against the door frame in awe. She had rarely had the chance to actually see him play for himself, instead of hiding behind a wall and contenting herself with a mere listening. If she were watching, he would always make a show of playing. Whether to entertain her or conceal his embarrassment, she did not know. He was currently playing at a slow, peaceful tempo, his notes echoing across the room. She knew how to interpret it. House was fine. His soul was bare and he could express his feelings freely. No angry cadence from the tormented battlefield that was his mind. No sad melodies reflecting this almost constant mood of his. No interrupted and random songs as when he was brainstorming on a case. Through the months spent by his side, she had learnt to decipher his music. Sometimes, it helped her more than a conversation with him. After his mother had died, he would play the piano before joining her in bed. He would pretend he was fine, but whenever she heard the forlorn melodies emitted by his fingers hitting the keyboard, she would tear apart. When he lay down beside her afterwards, she would embrace him as if her life depended on it. He would thank her by closing his eyes to sleep.

He turned to his night stand, contemplating the picture of him and his family taken at an amusement park a few months before. Cuddy's belly was barely round at that time. She and House were amazed by the life growing leisurely inside of her. Back then, their initial fears and doubts had been replaced by immense joy and excitement, although it had not lasted long. They would not even question their future at that time. They were in love, they were going to have a baby, what could possibly go wrong?

He sighed. How could they have been so naïve and carefree? Nothing had a chance at going right. They should have expected it and braced themselves for the inevitable.

He realised he had stopped playing. Outside, Cuddy was holding her breath.

She did have a pretty smile on that picture. That untroubled, confident smile – that was what he wanted to see brighten her face.

He resumed his playing, a particular song in mind. He began to play the introduction, the first verse ringing in his head. As he reached the chorus, he started to sing, barely above a whisper, in a deep and throaty voice, as though his vocal folds had just come to life. "You give me hope, in spite of everything. You show me love, even with so much pain." Cuddy could barely hear him. He carried on, daring to sing louder. "We laugh, we cry. Sometimes we're broken and we don't know why. And I'm tired, and I lose my way. You help me find faith." Cuddy's eyes were stinging. She repressed a sob with all her might. As House got carried away, the second verse merged into the first one. "I look at your smiling face. You're so weak, and yet you have such strength. You take –"

"Aw, Mama, don't cry!" Rachel exclaimed, looking up at her mother. House, startled out of his trance, stopped playing and whirled around.

"Sorry," she mumbled, unsure of whom she was apologizing to. House stared at her, but he did not seem afraid or angry. Only surprised to see her there. She looked away and wiped her cheek with the back of her hand.

Rachel clapped enthusiastically. "It was beautiful!"

He smiled shyly. "You wanna come and see?" She nodded. He beckoned her in. The little girl pushed the door open and scuttled across the room towards him. Cuddy did not make a move, blinking back her tears. Then again, music was more helpful than a conversation. House could tell her more by hiding behind a writer's words rather than formulating his feelings into his own sentences. And this song was how she made him feel. She gave him hope. In the toughest situations, she was still able to bring him solace.

"You, too," he called out, shaking her out of her thoughts. She cast him a quizzical glance. "Come here." A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. She smirked.

"Well, if you insist," she said as she walked to the bed, sitting behind him. As House showed to Rachel what an open E sounded like, she cuddled up against his back, set her chin on his shoulder and watched. He gently tilted his head against her own. She smiled.

* * *

><p><em>House throws himself on the bed, awakening Cuddy from the light slumber she drifted into after his departure. She moans softly and glances at the clock. Ten in the morning.<em>

"_What took you so long?" she asks, drowsy, turning to him. "Everything okay with Rachel?" Then, she notices the large, white envelope that he is striving to dissimulate. "What's behind your back?"_

"_Rachel arrived at school safely and on time," he promises, kicking off his __sneakers.__ "I made a detour by the hospital to pick up some stuff and I bumped into Westhall." He shrugs off his coat, the secret envelope complicating the task._

"_Okay, what's behind your back?" She sits up, curious._

"_Later. I have –"_

"_No, I want to see now!" she insists, slithering in front of him._

"_I said, later!"_

_She briskly throws her arm behind him, attempting to grab the envelope. He has time to switch hands, which Cuddy does not fail to notice, switching arms as well. All he can do to keep the package safe is to hold out his arms and maintain it out of her reach. With a chuckle, she presses herself against him and keeps trying to lay her hands on the envelope. After a few seconds, House falls onto his back, Cuddy following him, and places the package under the bed._

"_I said, later." She pouts. "You're such a brat," he smiles, kissing her lips. As she adjusts to lay comfortably beside him, he continues. "So, I was saying, I have a bad news and a good news. Which one do you want first?"_

_She blanches, terrified. "What? What bad news? It's Offspring, isn't it?"_

"_She's fine, calm down," he attempts to reassure her, stroking her hair. "If there was a problem, I would have already taken you to the hospital by now, believe me."_

"_No no no no no no, you said you bumped into Westhall, it has to be related," she blurts out, panting. "What's wrong with my baby?"_

"_I'm telling you, nothing." He kisses her once again. "Westhall wants to perform another amniotic fluid test, that's all."_

"_But why?" she frowns. "Her karyotype is normal – "she interrupts herself and lets out a small gasp. "It's not normal, is it? He found something."_

_He rolls his eyes briefly. "Chill out, Cuddy. Yes, it's normal. He just wants to check if her lungs are well-developed," he explains._

_Her brow furrows further. "But why would he want to know?"_

_Embracing her, he gently pulls her head into the crook of his neck, his arm wrapping around her shoulders. "Listen to me. It's a risky pregnancy and you know it." She nods. "We're both old, you've lost babies before, and yet Offspring has been there for twenty-six weeks and counting," he says, laying his hand on her belly. "And she's fine. But you know it can't keep going this way." Cuddy sighs with dread and snuggles into his arms. "If you make it to the due date, it's a miracle, and miracles don't happen."_

"_Why are you telling me this?" she asks, on the verge of tears._

"_I'm just saying that if you –" he hesitates on the word, fearing that uttering it could make it come true. "If it happened now, she would probably be big enough to survive. But we need to make sure. And if she's not, we'll fix it."_

_She keeps silent for a few seconds, before eventually whispering a weak, "okay."_

"_Don't worry. It's gonna be fine." He rubs her shoulder tenderly._

"_Sorry if I'm not a big fan of having a huge rod shoved into my womb."_

"_That's funny, you haven't complained a single time in over a year and a half."_

"_What?" Her previous amniocentesis was a nightmare. She postponed it for days, until House had __to practically drag her to the hospital. It was not as terrifying as it seemed, nonetheless she kept on repeating "Never again!" when leaving the hospital that day. She looks up at him, and understands the innuendo seeing this subtle smirk of his on his lips. "I said huge," she retorts with an equally playful smile._

"_Ouch, that hurt!" He places his palm on his heart, before rolling over and laying above her. "You're going to pay for that, Lisa Cuddy," he breathes against her mouth._

"_Try me," she replies, licking her lips. With a smile, he leans over and kisses her ravenously, his hands tangling in her thick hair. All of a sudden, she pushes him away._

"_What was behind your back?" she questions, as if it were a matter of life or death._

"_Seriously? Now?" he growls. "It was the good news." He sits up, Cuddy mirroring him, and fishes the envelope under the bed before handing it to her. She recognizes the logo of her hospital printed on the top right hand corner._

"_The sonograms?" He acquiesces. "You haven't opened it," she observes._

"_No, you would have made a fuss about me seeing the pictures before you did," he shrugs. "Just thought I'd save myself that."_

_Cuddy giggles. "Good idea. I could have killed you." She bites her lower lip and hurries to sit with her back resting against the headboard. "Come on, let's see them!"_

_He joins her unhurriedly. "What's the big deal? We've seen her before."_

"_But it's not the same." She grabs his wrist, urging him beside her._

"_Of course it's not," he says as he sits next to her. "We saw her _move_ on a screen, and she has grown since Westhall took those pictures. They're so outdated."_

_Her fingers run impatiently across the envelope. "Aren't you a little bit excited?"_

_He cannot lie to himself. He is excited. He can't wait to discover the pictures with her. They have never asked for pictures before. Perhaps because of their greatest fear; they did not wish to keep a reminder of their failure. But the fact is, Offspring is still here, and in good health. They can allow themselves to feel confident._

"_Just open the damn envelope already!" he bursts out. She giggles, attempts to open the seal with shaky fingers. "Don't – don't tear it," he mumbles, slightly panicky, taking hold of the package. She pauses and breathes deeply. "'Kay, I'll do it."_

"_No no no," she blurts, gripping the envelope tighter. "Let's do it together."_

_Carefully, they both scrape at the sticky paper holding the document close. "God fucking damn it," he hisses as he only succeeds to scratch the surface._

"_I've got it, I've got it," she announces triumphantly, finally lifting the flap. "Chill out."_

"_These things are incredibly annoying, though," he comments, scowling at the crumbs of paper sticking to his thumbnail._

"_I know, they suck. Ready?" He nods._

_She pulls the first sheet out delicately, and holds it in front of them. Both their hearts skip a beat. Two pictures. Two tiny shining grey profiles of a human face on top of a tiny body and tiny limbs, at the bottom of a black pool. Their daughter._

"_She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," Cuddy murmurs, in awe. He has no choice but to agree with her. It is not the same as on a screen. They can take the time to observe, notice any details that they would miss on a monitor. They can stare at it for as long as they wish, see their daughter whenever they want to._

"_Look, she's sucking on her thumb," he notices, pointing at the top picture. Her tiny arm is bent towards her face, but her hand cannot be discerned clearly._

_Cuddy tilts slightly her head. "No, I think she's rubbing her nose."_

_He takes a quick look at her and glances back at the picture. "Hey, she does have your nose."_

_She chuckles. "I wonder what she'll look like," she says in a dreamy voice._

"_She's going to be gorgeous," he responds in the same tone, enthralled by the pictures, before placing his warm hand on her bare stomach. She pulled up her pyjamas top so as to be more comfortable, revealing her abdomen._

"_Are you complimenting me or yourself?" she asks after a brief pause._

_He smirks. "Don't get me wrong, you have very nice genes. But girls tend to look like their dad more than their __mom.__.."_

"_Sure they do," she laughs, nevertheless considering it. "I hope she'll have your eyes," she says, looking up at him. He smiles. "You think she'll be tall?"_

"_You're particularly small, and I'm particularly tall."_

"_Yeah."_

_He shakes his head. "I have no idea."_

"_What would you like?"_

_He wonders for a second. "Small is cute. But tall is impressive. And pretty convenient at concerts."_

_She chuckles. "Impressive? You want her to scare off boys?"_

_He nods. "She's not dating until she turns thirty. I know it'll be a great loss if she has your boobs, but I don't care."_

_Cuddy frowns. "That sounds weird."_

"_What?"_

"_You mentioning Offspring's boobs."_

"_Well, she's not going to have my boobs, let's face it," he replies with a smirk._

"_Why not?" She lays her palm on his chest and gropes him. "Your boobs are awesome."_

"_Hey," he whines, tapping her hand kindly. "Don't touch my breasts. That's inappropriate. I'll sue you for sexual harassment."_

_She grins. "I should sue you." She kisses his lips and huddles closer to his torso, as he wraps an arm around her shoulders. With a content smile, she rests her head on his shoulder and picks up the sonogram. "She'll be perfect." They keep contemplating the image. "We made that," she whispers._

"_Yeah."_

"_Isn't it amazing?"_

"_It is."_

* * *

><p><em>TBC...<br>_


	39. Chapter 38

Helloooo everyone, it's been awhile, hasn't it? A very long while actually *flies away* I'm really sorry about it. I wish I had more time to give to my story but school is mercilessly eating most of it. The next update most probably won't be before my exams in mid-June (but let's be honest, I don't really care about these exams. So we'll see). Concerning the first part of this chapter, I did some research on the Internet, so there may be some mistakes. As to the second part, the song mentioned is _Sweet Thing_ by Tomasz Stanko.

Many thanks to all of you for reading the story, leaving feedback, especially IHeartHouseCuddy for taking the time to correct this chapter :)

Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Thirty-Eight<strong>

* * *

><p>"<em>Doctor Cuddy," Westhall salutes her kindly as she walks into his office, shaking his hand. He reiterates the greeting to House, who is following her. The couple takes a seat in front of the desk, while the elder doctor settles behind the mahogany table. "How are you? Any evolution since last week?"<em>

"_Everything's good. Better, even," she answers, shrugging her coat off._

"_She eats twice as much as usual now. You should have seen the size of the plate of spaghetti she had for lunch today," House comments, spreading his arms out._

_Cuddy shakes her head. "Nah, not even close."_

"_She sleeps a lot, too. Stays in bed till ten."_

"_Ten thirty," she corrects._

"_Alright then," Westhall approves with a warm smile. "It's very good news. I'm glad to know that you're getting your strength back. How's your blood pressure?"_

"_I take it twice a day," the diagnostician replies before she has a chance at coming up with a lie. "Still pretty high."_

_Cuddy rolls her eyes. "Not that high."_

"_What was the last measure?" the obstetrician questions._

"_Fourteen over ten this morning."_

"_Doctor Cuddy, do you have any head pain or visual disturbances?" She shakes her head no. "Alright then. It could be nothing but stress. You left work only a week ago, after all. I have the results of last week's urine test," he says, handing out a sheet of paper to Cuddy. House leans on the side to take a look at it. "Lot of proteins. I doubt there's anything quite wrong but we need to watch this closely. We're going to perform another test today."_

"_Okay," she agrees as House grabs the results and studies them thoroughly._

"_Are you particularly stressed or worked-up about something, Doctor Cuddy?" Westhall asks her kindly, leaning forward._

_He is so nice and caring that she cannot resign herself to lie to him. She sighs. So many things on her mind. She takes a few deep breaths to gather her thoughts, before she eventually blurts out in one go, "I don't know if Wilson is handling the hospital well,__I can't know since House confiscated my phone and my laptop because according to him it's stressing me out, his overprotectiveness is driving me nuts, I don't know if Rachel__will get along well with the baby, I don't like amniotic fluid tests, and my back hurts, and what happens if my baby's lungs are underdeveloped, and what if I lose her?" Her voice trails off. House listens without saying a word, guilty. Knowing her, if she expresses her feelings, then she must be extremely weary and overwhelmed, and he is partially responsible. Sighing once more, she hides her face in her hands, blinking back her tears, and composes herself quickly. "Sorry," she apologizes, daring to look up._

_Westhall offers a comforting smile to her. "You're not going to lose your baby, Doctor Cuddy. Given your history, we need to cover as many things as possible. It might be likely that her lungs are underdeveloped, which would prevent her from breathing at birth. But, if so, we can fix it now. You'll be on steroids for some time and your baby's lungs will be just perfect," he expounds calmly._

"_I understand," she acquiesces. "It's just..." She sighs. "I've been getting so worried about anything lately. I guess it will pass."_

"_We'll go see Wilson when we're out of here," House adds. "See how he's doing."_

"_Okay. Can I have my phone back?" she asks, although it sounds more like an order._

"_I don't have a choice, do I?"_

"_Not really." She smirks sympathetically._

"_Okay then," he yields. "There's going to be a curfew though, you know. And a limited time of use."_

"_Seriously? I'm not a child, House. I actually need my phone," she insists._

"_What for? Don't worry about Wilson. If he wasn't handling things well, half the hospital would have showed up at your door completely panicked."_

"_That's right," Westhall comments. "You're an excellent administrator, Doctor Cuddy. If there were any issues with Doctor Wilson, we would have let you know. Besides, so far, I've only heard good __things about him in the break room."_

"_If you say so," she says with a smile. He smiles back._

"_What do you say we get the amniocentesis over with and we'll talk afterwards?" he suggests. Cuddy nods timidly. The obstetrician rises from his chair, takes a few steps and pulls at a curtain to his left, revealing an examination table. Rather diffidently, Cuddy follows him, House falling in behind her. As Westhall sets up the ultrasound scanner, she rolls the jersey panel of her pants down to her lower stomach and lays on the table, while the diagnostician settles beside her on the stool._

"_Oh, I need your bladder empty for the test. So while we're at it..." her doctor intervenes, giving her a plastic cup. She acquiesces before sitting up and heading towards the small adjacent bathroom with the cup, relishing the break. "I'm glad that you're looking after her so faithfully," Westhall tells House once she closed the door._

"_Yeah, it's tedious. She's incredibly stubborn." He smiles slightly at the sight of the foetal monitor. The doctor could very well hear the baby's heartbeat through a stethoscope, nevertheless he is aware that Cuddy would be reassured by listening to Offspring's heart beating._

"_I can imagine. You know, with her high-risk pregnancy, she is lucky to have someone who is as observant and as brilliant a doctor as you." Westhall smiles to him kindly. House shifts uncomfortably, unused to compliments. His colleague senses his awkwardness. "I meant me," he says with a small chuckle, deciding to break the ice – successfully; House smirks._

"_Yeah, I figured. Who else?"_

_The toilet flushes and Cuddy emerges back from the bathroom. Westhall thanks her as she hands him the cup and lies down on the table._

"_Please sign this," he says, giving her a clipboard and a pen. Already knowing what it says, she writes her name, the date and signs the consent form without even bothering to glance at it._

"_Can we do this fast?" she asks, fiddling with her fingers nervously._

"_Yes, of course." A small smile tugs at the corner of her lips when her doctor pulls out the wide belt of the foetal monitor and reaches out to wrap it around her belly. He presses a few buttons on his computer and Offspring's brisk heartbeats echo across the room. Cuddy turns to look at House with an enthralled grin, as always. He smiles back._

"_I was thinking that we could try to listen to Offspring with a stethoscope at home."_

_She nods. "Sure, that'd be nice."_

_Westhall allows a few more seconds to tick by. "Heart rate is fine," he declares. "I'm going to take yours now, as well as your blood pressure." As he says so, he gently places an oximeter on her forefinger, then switches on a separate screen. "Heart rate is ninety-two," he reads before he grabs a sphygmomanometer and unwraps his stethoscope from around his neck, observing no evolution of her blood pressure since morning. "Alright then, let's proceed to the procedure, shall we?" he says as he frees her arm._

_He hoped that his pun would cheer Cuddy up a bit. It did not. Anxiety is etched into her features, her brow furrowed slightly and her jaw set. She nods briefly, hands on her prominent stomach as though to protect it. House watches intently in silence. Westhall puts on his gloves and grabs the bottle of gel._

"_A little bit cold," he apologizes in a soft tone as he deposits some on her belly, below the foetal monitor. She shrugs. Westhall applies the transducer to her stomach and rubs it gently. "There she is," he announces as the black and white picture of Offspring pops up on the screen. Cuddy contemplates it with a smile. "Have you thought about a name yet?"_

_House shakes his head, leaving to Cuddy the opportunity to speak up, which she takes. "No. But we should start to consider it."_

"_You still have time. Some parents don't choose their baby's name until after the birth."_

"_We haven't even painted the room," she blurts out, turning to House._

"_You were hesitating between orange and green," he reminds her._

"_Yeah. I didn't give it any more thoughts." She purses her lips. "I guess I wasn't expecting to make it this far."_

"_You have any daughters?" House asks his colleague before she has time to wander into darker __territories – which he usually rephrases as 'karma crap'._

"_I have two," Westhall answers with a proud smile. "Rose and Bridget."_

"_I like Bridget," Cuddy comments enthusiastically. "Rose too, actually." She frowns, hesitating again._

_House sighs. "Here we go again." She giggles, gazes one more time at the monitor screen._

"_Let's go," she says with little confidence. Westhall offers her an encouraging smile. As he struggles to retrieve his equipment while holding the transducer, House grasps it gently. Once it is in his hand, he cannot help but rub it delicately on her skin. In utter communion, they both stare at their child moving on the monitor. "Look," she murmurs with amazement. "It's like she's waving at us."_

"_Yeah."_

"_Hey, you," she tells the screen, her hands rubbing leisurely her lower-stomach._

_Westhall smiles, touched. "Alright then, let's do this." Reluctantly, House gives him the wand back. At the sight of the thin and long needle, Cuddy takes a sharp breath but does not avert her eyes, attempting to be more courageous this time, her hands laying on her chest and grasping lightly at her sweater. The doctor cleans her skin with meticulous care and, while using the screen as a guide, draws the needle closer to her stomach. Cuddy quails and turns to House, looking into his cerulean eyes. Westhall glances at him as well, and the diagnostician understands that he needs to help Cuddy relax before they can carry on the procedure._

"_Chill out. Take deep breaths," he advises merely, quite at a loss for words. She does so, her eyes not leaving his own, and begins to tremble slightly. Instinctively, he seizes her hand and squeezes it. "Hey, remember when I gave you that huge teddy bear in your office?"_

_She smiles weakly. "Yeah."_

"_When I asked you to marry me and you said no."_

_Her grin widens. "It was just slightly unexpected."_

_She is distracted enough. Her face scrunches into a brief wince when Westhall pierces into her womb, causing a sharp sting. A violent cramp ripples through her lower-stomach and she cannot fight back a gasp._

"_Deep breaths," House reminds her, holding her hand tighter and observing the doctor out of the tail of his eye. "When I read books to you in bed and you fall asleep." She nods with a small smile, although her face is contorted in pain. "You're doing well." He strokes her forehead with his other hand. Before she knows it, Westhall pulls the needle out of her abdomen and applies a small bandage onto the puncture mark._

"_Alright then." Cuddy turns to him and sighs with relief. "We have what we need. You did great, Doctor Cuddy." He thanks House with a smile._

"_Do we have to do anything else?" she inquires._

"_No, not today. We'll start on the glucose tolerance tests in two weeks," Westhall replies while checking on both monitors before he wraps the blood pressure cuff around her arm again and makes the usual measurement. "Your blood pressure is bothering me, to be honest."_

"_I feel fine," she claims._

"_I believe you, and there's no reason it'd affect only your baby. But let's not take any chances." He removes the foetal monitor from her belly and hands her a box of tissues to wipe the gel away. "From now on, bed rest."_

"_No!" she protests._

"_Oh, yes!" House argues._

"_I can't stay in bed the whole day."_

"_Well, you're going to," the diagnostician insists. "I'll give you books, __movies__, video games, crossword puzzles, __colorings__, anything to keep you busy, but you're staying in bed."_

_She pouts, although she does not object. "Then give me my computer back."_

"_And you'll stay in bed?" She nods. "Okay," he agrees, holding out his hand for her to shake and seal their accord. She then turns to Westhall as she unhooks the oximeter from her finger and pulls her sweater down._

"_When do you think we'll get the results back?"_

"_Within two weeks concerning the amniocentesis. The urine test should not take more than a few days. I'll call you." She acknowledges it with a nod._

"_You can have my team do it," House intervenes, not without a hint of pride. "Doesn't take them more than a few hours to test."_

"_Why? I'm not an emergency," Cuddy shrugs, sitting up. "Besides, don't they have a case right now?"_

"_They don't. Between covering my clinic hours and testing your amniotic fluid, they'll definitely choose you."_

_She narrows her eyes at him. "Do I consider this a compliment?"_

"_The fact that you're better than clinic duty? Yeah."_

_Cuddy rolls her eyes. "Anything is better than clinic duty to you."_

"_Still," he shrugs, causing her to smile at last. They rise and follow the doctor to his desk._

"_Any questions you two might have?" he asks them once they're settled again. Cuddy shakes her head and so does House. "Alright then, I'll come over at your place next week so that you won't venture outside," he tells his patient._

"_I can't even get out of bed for our appointments?" Immediately, she feels House's disapproving glance on her._

"_I'm afraid not."_

"_Fine," she yields with a pout._

"_Same day at the same time?" She nods. Westhall grabs his desk diary, tugs carefully at the thin red ribbon and opens the book. As he writes down Cuddy's name, he glances up at her. Her hands are laced loosely over her stomach and her features no longer frozen into an anxious pout. He stands and takes the trouble to show the couple out kindly._

"_Goodbye, Doctor Cuddy," he salutes her and then shakes her hand as she steps out of the room. "Take care." He turns to House, who is following her. "Make sure to keep an eye on her for me."_

"_Will do." They shake hands and House hurries to join Cuddy in the corridor. "You okay?" he asks her._

"_Yeah." Once he caught up with her, they head towards the lifts._

"_You don't trust me," he blurts out after a few seconds of silence. It has been bugging him for too long. As she presses the call button, she lets out a small scoff._

"_You just keep saying that. This is crazy."_

"_You didn't tell me you had so much on your mind," he argues._

_She buries her fists into the pockets of her coat and shrugs. "It didn't matter."_

"_You told Westhall and not me. It did matter."_

_She sighs. She has been overwhelmed with all her issues for days to the extent of struggling to find sleep at night, and keping a stiff upper lip because it is how she copes. She'd rather dismiss her fears than deal with them, not allowing herself to show any weaknesses. But she cannot negate these fears forever._

"_He just..." she stutters. "He seemed to care." The metallic doors open. To their relief, the elevator is empty. At this time of the day, visitors have not arrived yet, the personnel has just gone back to work after their lunch break._

"_And I don't?" They step in, he pushes on the button to the ground floor and the doors slide close._

"_It's not that. I know you care." She turns to him. "I've always leant on myself. I'm not comfortable with talking about my emotions like that."_

_She sees him set his jaw. "Yes, you are. You are very comfortable with telling a complete stranger."_

"_Westhall is not a complete str– "_

"_You are very comfortable when it comes to letting me know that you're pissed," he spits, remembering their countless arguments. "For God's sake, Cuddy. We're having a kid together."_

"_Let's not fight," she pleads him with a weary sigh. He looks away, sulking. As a beep announces the ground floor, she hurries to button up her coat and dissimulate her belly. As they expected, they catch quite everyone's attention. She smiles at everyone and walks determinedly to the clinic. House __follows her without a word._

_She trusts him. She does. She reminds him all the time. She'd put her life and her children's into his hands. And yet she still cannot tell him about the silly issues of her everyday life. After all this time spent by each other's side, he expects her to make some efforts and open up to him. She wants him to do likewise. It makes sense._

"_I'm sorry," she apologises sincerely, laying a hand on his arm. "I'll let you know now. All the time."_

_They reach the dean's office, stop and face each other. "You sure?"_

_She nods. "Yeah. You'll even complain to Wilson about me whining too much." He smirks, his rancour forgotten. Tenderly, she cups his cheek and kisses his lips. "That's our issue, you know," she continues with a sad smile as she pulls away. "We don't communicate."_

_He frowns."What if I told you I gotta pee?"_

_It is the last thing she expects him to say. Caught off-guard, she laughs. "Thanks for letting me know."_

"_See, we can do better. BRB." He limps away from the clinic in a dash._

_With a grin on her face, she opens the glass door and knocks on the wooden one. The blinds are up, therefore she can cast a clear look into the office. Wilson is buried under a pile of folders sitting on the desk, writing desperately fast. He offers himself the luxury to look up from his work, and his face immediately brightens up when he recognizes Cuddy. "Come on in!"_

"_Oh, dear, look at all this work," she exclaims as she waddles in. "I don't envy you."_

_Politely, he stands and goes meet her halfway before ensnaring her into his arms. "It's good to see you. You look great," he compliments her, pulling back and holding her at arm's length._

"_Thanks Wilson," she smiles. "It's only been one week though, you know."_

"_Felt like ages." Cuddy sits with relief in one of the chairs facing the desk, holding her womb. "I had no idea you could achieve so much in so little time," Wilson says as he settles beside her, pointing at the pile of folders stacked on the table._

"_Please tell me you're not too late."_

"_No, don't worry," he reassures her. "I caught up. Just needed to get used to that new rhythm." He starts fiddling with his fingers. "How are you? How did your AFT go?" he deflects hastily before she has time to utter anything. She narrows her eyes at him until he dares look at her._

"_You're still seeing your patients, aren't you?"_

_He raises his hands palms out defensively, "I'm not planning on turning into an administrator."_

"_But Wilson –"_

"_Some of them are dying, Cuddy, and all of them are scared," he interrupts her quietly. "I cannot have them switch to a different doctor and then back to me when you get your job back. I need to be with them all along."_

_A small, contrite smile draws on her lips. "You're right. I miss having patients sometimes, actually."_

_He smirks. "Is that why you cover House's shift at the clinic from time to time?"_

_Cuddy nods with a chuckle. "Don't tell him, he could use it to his advantage."_

"_He's not with you, by the way?"_

"_He was," she replies. "Had to go to the __restroom. __To answer your question, the test went fine. Good thing House was there. You haven't brought your stuff," she observes while grabbing the folder at the top of the pile._

"_It's _your_ office," he argues._

"_Wilson, come on! I don't mind." Cuddy opens the document and begins to read it. "It's easier to work in your own environment." The folder is snatched away from her. Opening her mouth to protest, she sees House limping to the chair behind the desk._

"_What part of 'time off' don't you understand?" he scolds, plumping down on the comfortable leather seat._

"_But dad," she whines playfully._

"_Oh, don't 'but dad' me! Hey Wilson, 'you up for some painting work?" The oncologist looks up, confused, and so does Cuddy. "We gotta paint Offspring's room. She's gonna be here soon."_

"_Hopefully," Cuddy comments, causing the diagnostician to glare at her. "Wilson, you don't have to –"_

"_You think a cripple can paint an entire room?" House cuts her off._

"_I didn't mean that. I was thinking we'd hire somebody."_

"_Yeah, we're gonna hire Wilson. For free."_

"_Really, Cuddy, I'll do it," Wilson intervenes. "I'd love to. What __color__ did you choose?"_

"_Actually, I'm hesitating between orange and green..."_

"_Hesitate no more. Rock paper scissors," House suggests. "I'm orange, you're green."_

"_Fine." They both make a fist, hide it behind their backs. "Rock paper scissors," they recite together. House shows his fist and Cuddy, her flat hand. "Green it is then," she proclaims._

"_Best of three," he insists childishly._

"_Actually," Wilson comments. "Best of three is used if you both throw the same gesture. Cuddy definitely won."_

"_Dammit, Wilson," he growls. "You're supposed to be on my side!"_

"_Green it is," she insists. He pouts. "You wanted orange?" she asks, concerned._

"_Nah, I don't care," he sulks. "It's not my room anyway."_

"_House," she argues in her bossy tone. He cannot help a smirk from tugging at the corner of his lips, causing her to chuckle. "Stop messing with me!"_

_Wilson's beeper goes off. He grabs it immediately from the pocket of his trousers and beckons an apology before rushing outside._

"_Don't run, Wilson," Cuddy calls out after him. "You're the boss, it can wait." He disappears into the clinic, oblivious. She lets her glance veiled with nostalgia wander across her desk. "Looks like he's got a lot of work to do," she comments._

"_Yep," House acquiesces off-handedly, swivelling from side to side slowly._

"_We should go," she decides eventually, not wanting her presence to interfere with Wilson's work. The diagnostician places the folder that he took from her back on the pile._

"_And you should be laying down." She sighs, weary, and does not even bother to claim that she feels fine. He stands up and takes her hand, helping her rise from her chair._

"_House?" she asks tentatively while they leave the office. He nods. "Can we go and see everyone before we head back home?"_

"_Cuddy, no," he whines, stopping in the middle of the clinic. "Westhall told you, everything's fine."_

_As he expects, she does not take no for answer. "Still. I have to see for myself."_

_He sighs. When it comes to her hospital, she can be even more stubborn than he is. "Okay, let's split up. I could go check on the ER while you're –"_

"_What part of 'see for myself' didn't you get?" she interrupts him. "Plus, if something were wrong, you sure as hell wouldn't tell me."_

"_Of course not," he admits. "You won't let go of this, will you?"_

"_Nope."_

_He shakes his head briefly, grabs her hand and leads her to the lifts, trying to convince himself it is not worth seeing that satisfied smile spread across her lips, but he would put up with anything for her grins. He follows her grudgingly on her tour, trudging three feet behind her. Knowing he is bored to death and can't wait to drive home, she makes it quick, though she sometimes needs to sit down for a minute. She visits every head of department. Most of her doctors tell her that she should trust Wilson more, that her hospital is in good hands. As she wraps up her visit, House fights an immense urge to let out, "I told you so!" He even bites his cheek, well aware that such a comment would earn him a night on the couch. After she met with the head of the maternity ward, she decides to amble across the busy corridors. She halts in front of the nursery, newborns laying in tiny beds behind a glass, beaming at him. He stands beside her wordlessly, nonetheless enjoying her tender, happy grin as she stares at the babies._

"_You know, before I had Rachel, I would spend hours here, just observing, wishing that one of them were mine," she confesses after a moment, gently lacing her fingers with his own. "Dreams come true. They did with Rachel." She lays her cheek on his shoulder. "They do with you. I couldn't be __happier."_

_He smiles in spite of himself, tilting his head to rest it on her own._

* * *

><p>"What's this one called?" Cuddy asked, looking up from her book, as the trumpet following the intro of the jazz song currently playing echoed across the living-room. After re-adjusting his glasses on his nose, House reached for the jewel case sitting on the armrest and took a look at its back.<p>

"_Sweet Thing_," he read. "It says you inspired it."

She giggled heartily. "Are you trying to get into my pants, Doctor House?"

"Busted." Cuddy laughed even louder.

"Best song of this CD so far, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he confirmed, turning a page of his magazine. He folded it so that he could hold it with one hand, his left hand wandering absent-mindedly across her hair, as she had stretched her legs out on the couch and rested her head on his lap. His fingertip traced occasionally the contour of the row of stitches at the brim of her hair. While she was absorbed in an Isabel Allende novel, he had opted for a medical journal. It was Sunday afternoon and they were enjoying a respite after their habitual brunch.

House glanced up from the article he was reading, observing Rachel drawing quietly on the coffee table, the scraping noise of pencils caressing paper accompanying the music.

"It's so peaceful," Cuddy murmured then.

"Mmh?"

"That song."

"Oh. Thought you meant... this," he said, sweeping at the room with his magazine.

She wriggled a tad and leant into his fingers tangled in her dark curls. "Well, this, too."

Just as she said so, Rachel decided to run the tip of one of her pencils along the arch of his foot. His foot jerked slightly due to the surprise but he kept on reading with no reaction other than a smirk. Frowning, the little girl tried again. Why wasn't he rolling on the floor laughing already?

"I'm not ticklish, kiddo," he said, almost apologetically. She insisted that yeah, he was _tick'ish_, the pencil strolling faster across his grey sock, which did not function. He smile. Wasn't she adorable. "I'm really not _tick'ish_." The kid guffawed.

"Can we go to the park?" she asked excitedly, the idea having just crossed her mind.

Cuddy lowered her novel, "Right now? You wanna?" The kid nodded. "Okay honey, let's get ready. Go get your gloves." Rachel ran into the hall while Cuddy fetched their coats and their shoes. "You coming with us?" she suggested to House.

"Sure." He tossed his magazine, popped a pill, turned off the hi-fi system and went to slip his coat on. Rachel was jumping about, giggling. "We'll play with the swings and all."

"Yeah! The swings!" she exclaimed. "Hows you push me, 'kay?" Cuddy knelt in front of her, wrapping her white scarf around her neck and buttoning her coat up.

"There. You're the cutest little girl I've ever seen," she said, smelling her shampoo as she kissed her cheek loudly.

"I not little, mama!" Once they were all set, House opened the door, pocketed the keys and his family followed him. Cuddy reached out to grab his left hand but Rachel was quicker. He smirked.

"Looks like you've got a rival."

She sighed and pinched his cheek playfully. "All this success with chicks, it must be exhausting for you."

He smiled, happy that she was happy.

* * *

><p><em>TBC...<em>


	40. Chapter 39

_Hiya guys! This has been a while, how long, two months? Oh. I am very sorry I've kept you waiting all this time. Been busy with school and exams and everything, but the summer holidays have just started, and I will have much more time to write and update the story! (Breaktime too, actually, I've got a beginning of something) This is a looong chapter, a compensation for these two long months. I hope you'll enjoy it! I've had to do a bit of research about psychology and everything, and since we can't really trust the Internet (can we?), I do hope that my version of Nolan is, well, a good version of one of the best psychologists ever. _

_A huuuuge thanks to everyone who's been reading, left a review last time, or added the story to their fav, etc. especially to IHeartHouseCuddy for taking the time to take a look. Much appreciated. :)_

_See ya soon!_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Thirty-Nine<strong>

* * *

><p>Wordlessly, forehead leant against the cool window, Cuddy watched the bare trees and dried lawns unfold themselves as House drove her car.<p>

"It's going to rain soon," House said then. She hummed after looking up to see the big threatening clouds for herself. He probably felt the drop of pressure in his leg as well. "You're awfully quiet."

"Frankly, I'm a bit nervous," she admitted with a sigh. Her yoga session that morning, the first one in months, had not helped her to relax as much as she had hoped.

"Nervous?" He stopped at a red light. "Who are you and what have you done to Lisa Cuddy?" She let out a small, half-hearted chuckle. Exactly. What had happened to her older self? The persevering and ruthless dean of Medicine? "Don't worry. He's a good guy. Very stubborn. You'll like him."

"I know." The red switched to green. "You wouldn't be taking me there otherwise, would you?" She began to fiddle absently with her fingers and, after a minute, exhaled when she realised it. "This is stupid, how bad can it be?"

"_Very _stupid. It's going to be just fine." House rested his hand on her knee. She loved this little gesture that meant a lot.

"So, what happens? Do we see him together?"

His thumb drew small circles on her patella. She would mind that he wasn't holding the steering wheel with both hands, but he had to drive straight on for a few miles and the road was deserted."We'll see, Cuddy."

"But what do you think?"

He pondered about it for a second. "I think separately is better. You know, maybe we don't have the same things to say. If we talk together, one of us will be left out."

"You're right," she conceded, fingers lacing with his own.

"And I don't want it to be me." She smiled at his pretended selfishness.

As the hour-long journey came to its end, the massive four-storey building appeared on the horizon. Cuddy had to admit that it looked gorgeous, although a little grim, and caused her to grow more intrigued. After all, she had never set foot in Mayfield before. Wilson had driven House there and she had never visited him, fearing she would disturb him and probably slow down his healing – he had hallucinated her for God's sake. Furthermore, things had been awkward enough between them at that time. She had preferred to let him pull himself back together before they confronted the matter in hand, which never really happened. Even now, House never talked to her about Mayfield, and she did not ask.

"So this is Mayfield," she said as she stepped out of the car, noticing he had parked on a handicapped space. She knew he always did, but this time it actually struck her. She felt an unexplainable sadness embracing her heart.

"Yep." House locked the doors and stood beside her as she observed the heavy stone building with admiration.

"It's huge."

"And it has a small basketball court and a park."

She seized the opportunity. "You played basketball when you were there?"

"Yeah, a little." He limped towards the entrance. Cuddy followed him, eyes riveted on the main tower expanding into two long wings. "His office is on the third floor," he said, pointing at a window with his cane. "And there's an elevator." They climbed up the stairs leading to the metallic doors. As House pressed on a button and they were buzzed in, she glanced up to see the sign that read 'Mayfield Psychiatric Hospital'. And then it hit her – House had been a patient in a psychiatric hospital. She knew that, of course, but in her mind, for the time when he was hospitalized, he had simply gone somewhere for some time, perhaps on a holiday, because he had been looking like he needed one. She had unconsciously refused to assess the gravity of the situation because she felt responsible. Guilty, even. She had put him in chronic pain. She had failed to acknowledge his addiction fully, to recognize the tell-tale signs that he was courting disaster. He had insulted her baby and she had dismissed his behaviour as his traditional harshness, while he had been, in fact, trying clumsily to reach for her help. If she had paid more attention to him, maybe –

"You coming?" he called out. She snapped out of her thoughts and followed him in.

The walls were painted a light green and the floor was tiled. Most of the elegant furniture was made of dark wood. The modern pieces of furniture, she figured, were reserved for the patients' wards, where most visitors did not have access and showcasing was unnecessary. House limped straight to the lift. Even though he had not been there in a while – since that crane had collapsed in Trenton, actually – he knew the place by heart, even nodded at a blonde woman in a lab coat. As they stepped into the elevator, she imagined his stay in Mayfield. The hours of therapy, the pain that the withdrawal of Vicodin had caused him – which she had witnessed while detoxing him herself; droplets of sweat running across his face, his hands encircling desperately his thigh and his screams of agony ringing across his apartment. She imagined how lonely and broken he must have been in there. It shattered her heart. She wished he had never gone through any of that. She wished he had never lost his leg.

She grabbed his hand and squeezed it.

"It's okay," he said, believing she sought reassurance. The doors opened before she could let out what she had on her mind. House led her to the right. After a few steps into the corridor, he let go of her hand to check on his watch. "We're early," he said, dropping on a bench facing a door. Cuddy settled beside him but could not remain idle for a minute. She stood up, walked around the empty hallway, observed the Monet paintings decorating the walls, stared at the park through the window, while House toyed with his cane absent-mindedly. At two o'clock sharp, Nolan opened the door of his office. Cuddy couldn't help but jump. She walked away from the tall window and towards House. Nolan smiled at them and stepped aside to let them in.

"Good afternoon," he said, responding to House's nod. He held out his hand to Cuddy. "It's good to finally meet you, Doctor Cuddy."

"Pleasure's mine, Doctor Nolan," she answered politely. There was a comforting feeling of calm that emanated from him and appeased her immediately – from the woollen cardigan he wore above his shirt, the warmth and cosiness of his office, his serene features, his deep voice, she did not know precisely. House had been right, she liked him immediately. Nolan had placed a spare chair in front of his desk where House and Cuddy sat as he took a seat facing them.

He licked his lips, then spoke in a compassionate tone. "I am truly sorry for your loss. I was hoping you wouldn't have to be here." House remained silent. She nodded, did her best to not let her weariness of condolences show. "How do we proceed? Have you talked about it?"

"I thought I'd let Cuddy talk with you first," House said as he rose and turned to her.

She shrugged. "Okay."

"Fine with me," the psychiatrist consented. "We'll let you know when we're finished."

"Have a blast." He left and closed the door softly.

Nolan motioned towards the coffee table surrounded by two armchairs on her left. "Shall we?" She nodded. "You can leave your coat on the sofa behind you. Make yourself at home." As she did so, he served them both a glass of water, and waited until she sat in the big, comfortable chair to settle down as well. She sipped her water gratefully, her throat feeling dry.

"How long have you been working here?" she asked, putting the glass back on the table.

"Almost ten years. House has told me a lot about you," he added.

"Good or bad?" He rocked his hand side to side. "Thought so. He roughly told me about his sessions with you but he didn't give much away," she kept on speaking, wishing to get to know the man before they started. She observed him for a second. His navy blue cardigan gave him a curiously old look. He reminded her of an elderly man more sensible to cold, perhaps her grandfather. Or maybe it was a both casual and professional look. Either way, she wanted to trust him. "You haven't seen him in a while, have you?"

"It's been over a year."

"Yeah." She stretched her legs and adjusted a little bit more comfortably. "I was moving in with my fiancé back then, I'm sure he told you about that. Well, I'm with him now. But anyway, it's not the point."

"Why not?" he asked, lacing his fingers on his lap. "It's our first session. We can talk about whatever you want."

She frowned. "Isn't there a process to follow or something, according to the situation?"

"We'll get there."

"Can we get there now? How do we start? Do I have to tell you about my childhood?"

He shrugged offhandedly. She liked how he shrugged, as though they had all the time in the world. "You can if you want to. Tell me whatever you want. As I told you, it's our first session. After that, we'll define your goals."

"I know my goal, I want to get better," she insisted more firmly than she intended. She did not know if it was a good thing. She was either recovering her personality or on the verge of losing control of her emotions. Nolan did not seem to mind this sudden authoritative tone. Once again, it reassured her. Perhaps she did not have to watch her reactions. Did not have to keep a stiff upper lip like she always did.

"Well, that's an excellent start. What's on your mind?"

She ran her hand through her hair, at a loss. "I – what do you want me to talk to you about?"

"What do you want to talk to me about?"

She had a small laugh at his reply. "I see why House likes you so much." The doctor smiled. She took a few seconds to muster her thoughts and continued. "House told you, didn't he?" He did not move. The air in the room felt heavier with the sudden gravity. "Why I'm here. Don't make me say it," she pleaded, observing his absence of reaction. "I'm not ready."

"He told me."

She licked her lip timidly. "It's fucking me up." Her voice was lower than she wanted, barely above a whisper. "What do I do?"

"My role is to lead you so that you can find answers. It includes the answer to this specific question, but also many others."

"I just want to get better," she said with a shrug. "I don't have any questions."

"Then I'm here to help you find them."

"Find the hypothetical questions before we find their hypothetical answers?" she repeated, bewildered. "It's going to take ages."

"Not necessarily."

"I don't have the time. There are no answers, no hidden questions, Doctor Nolan. I'm just a grieving mother."

"People rarely are what they limit themselves to," he declared solemnly.

"You just want to make this more interesting than it is because you're bored and –"

"I am supposed to be psychoanalyzing _you_," Nolan interrupted her with an amused smile.

She apologized and tucked her hair behind her ear nervously. "You must have had one hell of a time with House."

"Well, he did just that. Psychoanalyzing me."

"And was he right?"

"Is House ever wrong?" They chuckled. She liked that he let her take a break and change subjects from time to time. It was like taking a breath of air before she dipped back into her ocean of grief.

"What are we going to do in therapy?" she asked. Back into the ocean.

"Mainly work on your goal – which doesn't have to be definitive," he reminded her kindly.

She acquiesced. "So we're going to work on getting me better." She sighed. "Good luck with that. Seems that we have a long, bumpy road ahead, don't we?"

"Why do you say that?"

Something inside her snapped. He did not understand. Nobody did. "Oh for God's sake," she growled. "Do you have children?" He shook his head no. Cuddy leaned forward, resting her elbow on her knee, and stared into his eyes. "Then you can't even begin to imagine what it feels like to lose your child. It is the worst thing that could ever happen to you. So yes, the fucking road is going to be long and bumpy." Her tone was frosty. It surprised even herself. She regretted it immediately. However, Nolan did not seem shocked or upset. He listened to her quietly. "I'm so sorry," she murmured in a warmer tone, rubbing her face before she looked away. "You're just doing your job."

"You let your emotions out," he said simply. "It's good." She glanced up at him. "Go on," he encouraged her.

"So there's a long and bumpy road ahead," she continued. "Lots of work to do."

"What sort of work? What do you expect from our sessions?"

She paused for a second and thought about it, leaning back in her seat. "Being able to say goodbye, I guess. Moving on and not just coping. What the hell does moving on mean, anyway?" She sighed. "I feel like I'm not doing any progress. With House. I know that I am, but it seems so tiny, so insignificant, compared to what's left. It's so huge." Indignation rose within her as she contemplated it. "I'm not the kind of person who collapses just like that! I've put up with so much crap before and I can't get over _this_!" Hot tears of anger pearled at the tail of her eyes. She wondered briefly if House could hear her. "It's been two weeks already! How long is it going to take?"

Nolan listened with attention, gave her time to calm down and pull herself back together. "Do you want to focus on what you've accomplished so far ?"

She nodded, grateful. "I didn't want to go back home when I was discharged from the hospital, so House took me to his apartment. It helped." She smiled, her cheek resting against her fist. "I was such a mess and he fixed me. He made me okay with my body, took me out for breakfast to distract me, helped me call my daughter at home. My other daughter, Rachel," she clarified, though she doubted it was necessary. "Maybe House told you about her." Nolan confirmed it. "He helped me tell Rachel the news, too. He helped me fall asleep at night. I had a nightmare that was bad enough to wake me up once, and he comforted me."

"You have nightmares?"

"Yes. Can we not talk about it? Not yet."

He accepted to let it drop. "Go on."

"I like to think that I'm helping him as well," she carried on, having lost the thread of the conversation a bit. So she decided to say whatever came to her mind at that moment, which was probably what was demanded of her anyway. "But there's not much I can do. I do my best, and so does he. I've been giving him a hard time. We had a fight this weekend. Fights aren't a big deal, it happens pretty often, and it's not the first time since..." Her voice trailed off. "But this one was pretty intense. I think we needed it, actually. You know, to let our emotions out. To have a good cry, a good yell." She nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah. We did make some good progress. I look back at how we were that day, things have changed. We decided to move in together. We just have to find the right place. I'm very picky." She chuckled softly. "We're going to start over and forget all of this, in a way. House only said that he wanted a big living room for his piano. It's good that he has requirements, even though that's not much. It means he's involved. He really wants to move in with me. Officially." Cuddy grinned.

"You're looking towards the future. That's a good thing."

"Yeah. The future without my daughter," she blurted without thinking about it. She sighed deeply and buried her face in her hands. "See, everything I do, everything I think, it comes back to her! Every fucking time! It has to stop!"

"I see that you're willing to make some progress. And you would be getting better if it didn't keep catching up with you."

"Exactly." She heaved an exasperated sigh. "It just won't go away. That's what's fucking me up."

He nodded. "We could start by working on that. Helping you find ways to clear your mind. What do you think?"

"I think that I'm scared," she admitted after a few seconds. "I'm scared I'll never get past this. I'm scared of what my life is going to look like if I do get past this. It's going to be... odd. Pretending that Mary never existed. That nothing happened. Because that's what moving on means, doesn't it?"

"Does it to you? Pretending that nothing happened?"

Running her fingers through her hair slowly, Cuddy pondered about it. "Sounds a lot like denial."

"You said earlier that your expectations were to be able to say goodbye. Maybe moving on is about putting it behind you?"

"It's very abstract," she said. "How do I do that? Do I learn to cope? I let it affect me every second of my life and I stop giving a shit about it?" She shook her head. "No, moving on means you're done with coping. That's the only thing I managed to figure out." Staring down at her shoes, she let the thought stew in her head. She was immensely confused. Nothing made sense. "Do I really know what I want?" she wondered aloud. "Maybe I'm not ready. I'm rushing things."

"It's a possibility."

"When am I ever gonna be ready?" she asked more to herself than to Nolan.

"Only you can answer."

"Well I can't." She sighed, glancing up. Her own reality struck her. She had so many questions and no answers at all. She was truly helpless, stuck in a dead end, and it infuriated her. "Whatever the answer is, I don't have it. I don't understand." She stood up and started pacing, unconsciously raising her voice as Nolan watched her calmly. "I don't understand any of this! Why did it happen to us? Like we haven't suffered enough already! I mean, it was expected, it was a high-risk pregnancy, alright, but why? Why. Can't. I. Get. Over it? I've lost babies before dammit, it's not supposed to be such a big fucking deal!"

"You've already experienced such a trauma?" he asked, mildly surprised. Apparently, it changed a lot of things.

Cuddy plumped down into her seat and took a deep breath before she nodded. "I miscarried a few years ago," she explained once she had taken a sufficient grip on herself. Even though she believed she had gotten over it, it still pained her to remember. "I had been trying to get pregnant over and over again, I lost the baby, I bled all night, I was alone, I was terrified, but I pulled though it and I was doing okay! I wasn't so broken!" Once again, she had to shut out the anger spreading in her chest. "After that, my doctor suggested that I tried adopting. And I did, two years later. I came in touch with a surrogate mother, and she took her baby away right after she gave birth." Flooded with memories, eyes stinging with restrained tears, she had to take a brief break.

"Take your time," Nolan told her patiently.

"It shouldn't affect me more this time," she murmured, rubbing her forehead. "I have a daughter that I love unconditionally, she's healthy, we're happy together. It's not like I've lost everything. I still have a family. I've just lost another baby."

"I see," he said, rubbing his chin pensively, which caused her to furrow her brow.

"What?"

"You're upset because losing your daughter means something."

"Are you saying that my previous losses meant nothing? They mattered!" she protested vehemently. "And they hurt, too!"

Nolan raised his hands palms out in defence. "I'm not saying they didn't matter. I'm sorry. Let me rephrase it. You're upset because it is _different_." She considered it. It wasn't entirely wrong. In fact, it made sense a little. Forgetting her miscarriage, forgetting Joy, had been tough on the first days, but it had healed fast, and she had not stagnated like she was then. "What makes it so different this time?"

She opened her mouth so as to speak, then shut it. "It was House's daughter," Cuddy said after some reflection. "We made her together. I carried her in my womb for nine months. My pregnancy was a miracle. I'm over forty, House isn't that young either, I thought I was sterile and it still happened. I should have cherished it and I fucked up instead." Sigh. "We made plans, how we were going to raise our kids, what we wanted for them and so on. We were thrilled because everything was going so well," she carried on, letting out what weighed on her mind. "We were doubtful at first, but we've accomplished so much in the meantime. For the first time ever, I really felt that we were a family. And suddenly..." She took a shaky breath, the little confidence she had fading away. "It's torn away from me. I let it be torn away from me. I should have done something. I made it to labor, and she was born, but she wouldn't cry, she wasn't breathing!" Her voice trailed off, chocked by repressed sobs. "I let my baby die."

Burying her face in her palms, Cuddy curled up on the armchair and burst into tears. Refusing to even try and calm down, knowing her efforts would be fruitless, she bit her lip to fight off her loud sobs, squeezed her eyes shut, and let the warm tears roll down her cheeks, ignoring the doctor. She did not know how much time had passed when she dared open her blurry eyes and ask a sorry-looking Nolan if he could let House back in. He rose and fetched the diagnostician immediately before leaving them alone in his office.

"Hey, Cuddy. Hey." She felt the thumb of a large and familiar hand rub her knee slowly. Cuddy looked up to see House kneeling in front of her. Relief washed over her, though she could not manage to stop crying. In fact, she cried harder, as if she could only allow herself to show her emotions in his presence. She hugged her knees and hid her face. He gazed at her wordlessly as her tears were pouring without a noise, his thumb never ceasing its caresses on her patella, the only sound in the room being the violent and yet soothing clatter of the rain against the windows. After a moment, he grabbed the box of tissues from the coffee table and handed it to her. Gratefully, she pulled out a handful of tissues. "You look like crap," he said as he finally saw her face. Her lips twisted into an odd and brief smirk.

"I feel so pathetic," she sighed, her tears no longer streaming down her drenched face. Her breath was so heavy with pain, tears and grief, that he felt a heartache hit him.

"You're not pathetic." His thumb was rubbing her knee. She glanced up at him and he made a face. "You might want to blow your nose though."

She let out a tiny laugh and followed his advice several times in a row. He held out his arm to draw the bin that was sitting beside Nolan's desk closer to her. She threw the tissues away while he served her a glass of water. She gulped it down, rested her temple against her curled fingers and observed him for a long time.

"I feel so much better when you're here," she rasped, surprised by the hoarseness of her own voice.

"I should be your shrink then." She chuckled. House sat in Nolan's chair, folding his hands on his lap. "Now, Miss Cuddy, why don't you tell me about your childhood?" She chuckled again and gazed at her saviour with a smile mixing gratefulness, sadness and tenderness. "You better?" he asked her eventually.

"Yeah. Thank you."

Nolan then entered the room, making sure to produce enough noise not to startle Cuddy. "I'm afraid you need a psychotherapy degree to sit in that chair," he told House in an amused tone, before squatting down beside his patient's armchair. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah, thanks." She tried a tentative smile. "Sorry about the outburst."

"It's alright." He smiled his comforting smile at her.

"Therapy is going to take awhile, huh?"

He nodded. "Afraid so. What I understood is..." Nolan licked his lips and searched his words for a second. "You have a lot of unresolved issues concerning your losses."

She could only agree with him. "I know, I don't deal with my problems, I just lock them away..."

"Yes. Well, we'll work on that if you still want to come over," he suggested.

"Yeah, sure." He did not say anything, obviously giving her the opportunity to choose her time line. "Next week?"

"Fine with me." They smiled.

"Anyway, I'm sure House has a lot to tell you," Cuddy said as she rose. She offered an encouraging smile to the diagnostician before she exited the room, not forgetting to shut the door.

* * *

><p>Cuddy walked into the powder room carefully and quickly checked for a pair of feet under the doors of the few stalls, finding none. She was alone. Good. She turned on one of the taps, letting the water drip tirelessly into the sink, and contemplated her reddened eyes and sallow complexion in the mirror for a moment. Only when she splashed her face with water did she start crying again, her hands gripping the porcelain.<p>

"You're okay," she murmured to herself through her tears. "You're okay. It's okay. You're getting over this. You're getting over this."

She washed her face one more time, looked up and took a deep breath, blinking back her tears.

"You're okay."

She felt ready. Confident. Cuddy left the room and wandered back into the hallway.

* * *

><p>As the diagnostician slipped out of his coat and did not move from his seat, Nolan settled in the armchair usually attributed to his patients – it didn't matter much anyway.<p>

"What's on your mind?" he asked casually, folding his hands on his lap, as if he had seen him only a few days before.

"I'm not going to tell you about my week," he warned him. "It's Cuddy I'm here for."

"Okay. So what's on your mind?"

"I'm wondering who Alicia from Prescription Passion is going to choose between Brad and Johnny. Clearly Brad looks better than Johnny but he's so dumb, you know." The words escaped his mouth before he could stop them. He couldn't help deflecting. House sighed, staring into the distance while fiddling with his cane, which the doctor noticed but did not point out. He had not come to Nolan so as to dodge his questions. "What the hell do you think is on my mind?" And neither to throw sarcasm at him. He had come to him to fix Cuddy. "Have you seen her?" he mumbled at last. "It's been like that for two weeks. She cries and she cries and she cries."

"How does that make you feel?"

"It's annoying." He frowned. It did not sound like what he meant. He glanced up at Nolan, but he did not seem shocked. Whether the psychologist was used to his cold heart or he was ready to take whatever shit his patient wanted to tell him, House was not sure, but he seriously considered the latter option. And it comforted him somehow. Nolan would not give up on him, or on Cuddy and he, no matter how fucked up they were. "Don't misinterpret this," he clarified anyway. "I guess it's normal that she cries so much. But I hate that she cries. That's what I meant."

"Why?"

"Why? Because snot is nowhere near sexy," he replied in a 'duh' tone, then sighed and remained silent, lost in his thoughts.

"How does that make you feel?" House glanced up. "Sad? Compassionate? Angry? Helpless?"

"I'm not sure. All of the above." Once again, he fell silent. "She can't deal with this on her own." He paused. "It's odd. Because she's always been the strongest one. She's always supported me. She detoxed me, for God's sake."

Nolan seemed astounded. "She did?"

"What's so surprising? The fact that I had gotten back on drugs or the fact that she accomplished in a week's time what took you guys a month?"

"All of the above," he smirked. "You brought it up, why don't you tell me about it?"

"Long story." Nolan shrugged. "She got sick a while ago," he started. "A renal oncocytoma, nothing to worry about. Except that tests evidenced presence of multiple tumors in her lungs, which was only an allergic reaction to antibiotics, but we obviously didn't know it at the time and assumed it was kidney cancer metastasized to her lungs. I thought I was going to lose her, I freaked out, took a pill, she figured it out and she dumped my sorry ass. She came back after two weeks and she asked me to detox. I understood that, I was not safe for someone with a child and she didn't deserve to be with a pill-popping addict. I agreed on the condition that she'd do it herself because I didn't want to be institutionalized and be away from her again. Anyway."

"When you thought she was dying, you were pretty much as upset as you are now, weren't you?" He did not react. "Are you afraid the story is going to repeat itself?" House shook his head decidedly. "And yet you brought it up. For a reason."

"To show you how strong she is. I'm not going back on drugs. I almost killed her while I was in withdrawal so yeah, I'm done with Vicodin for fucking ever."

"Then are you afraid she is going to leave?"

"No. Her leaving is the last thing I'm worried about. She needs me and she made that pretty clear. She gave me Vicodin the other day. Just imagine how desperate she is. She thinks it's karma. Now she is beginning to think that it's her fault."

"What do you think?"

"It's not about me!" House burst out suddenly, hitting the table with his fist. "Shit," he mumbled, regaining his senses. "It's Cuddy I'm here for."

"Cuddy is here for herself. Why can't you be here for yourself?"

"Because I'm fine," he snapped. Nolan titled his head forward in scepticism. House yielded and answered his question. "It's nobody's fault. Mary died, there's no one to blame. That's what I've been telling her." Invariably, it came back to Cuddy. "She's not buying it. I can see why."

"Why?"

"Because it's fucking unfair. Because nobody is ever going to pay for it, and how do you find peace without that?"

"Do you think revenge is necessary to peace?"

House rubbed his nape thoughtfully. "She's angry. She needs revenge."

"But her anger is going to fade, eventually."

"Not that kind of anger. Probably not. Do you know what kills anger? Reason. Sense."

The room was quiet for a few seconds. "If you can't find revenge, does that mean you have to take responsibility for what happened?"

"No, it is nobody's responsibility. We have to accept it."

"Can you?"

"Nope. Neither can she."

"Because it makes no sense." House nodded. "The universe, or God, or whatever you or she believe in, picked you, decided that you should suffer, for absolutely no reason."

"Exactly. No reason. It just happened, period."

Nolan kept silent for a second and furrowed his brow. "Do you know the cause of death?"

"I told Cuddy the cord was wrapped around her neck, it's bullshit." He looked away and resumed toying with his cane. "The doctors have no idea. They can't perform the necessary tests without our agreement, and I may be a bastard but I'll never do such a thing behind her back. So I assume we'll never know."

"Your whole life has been about solving puzzles and finding answers," Nolan stated. "You'd like to know. The cause of death is the reason that is missing."

"It's not going to bring her back," he argued.

"But you'd like to know."

He heaved a sigh. "Yeah."

"Why did you lie to Cuddy?"

His cane hit the floor repeatedly. "Because I didn't want her to think it was her fault."

"And what do you think? Is it her fault? Yours?"

House considered it. "I didn't kill Mary. But maybe I should have done something more. Whatever that something is. Maybe it's kind of my fault." He paused. "When she told me she was pregnant, I ran away for a few days. Nothing wild, just stayed at my apartment, didn't take drugs, didn't call any hookers. She said she'd abort if I didn't want the baby. And she was right, she shouldn't go through a risky pregnancy on her own with a kid and a stressful job. It would be suicide."

"You thought that her pregnancy was a mistake."

"Back then, yeah."

"But you came back."

"I didn't want to put her through an abortion," he explained. "I knew that she wanted the kid but it wouldn't stop her from having the abortion if I didn't want it. It would have fucked her up. After all she'd been through to get pregnant unsuccessfully a few years earlier, it was finally happening, and I thought she deserved a chance to see this through."

"Then things changed," Nolan carried on. "You decided to get involved in something pretty big with her. A child. It's not usual, especially for you."

"Well, time went by. I was convinced it wouldn't last and I was expecting a miscarriage, and before I could realize it, I was starting to want the kid. Even to love it. And you know I'm not big on family. I wanted a baby with Cuddy," he declared, swallowing not without difficulty. "She was thrilled," he said with a small smile, before finally answering his question. "I'm worried about Cuddy. That's what's on my mind. I don't want her to feel this way. I want her to be okay, and there's nothing I can do."

"Helpless," Nolan said cryptically.

"What?"

"That's how you feel, isn't it?"

"I said 'all of the above'," House dismissed it. "She's never really going to be okay. It's too big for her. It's going to haunt her for the rest of her life and it's unfair."

"But what about you?"

House sighed. "Do you listen to anything I said? I said I was fine."

"You're not fine, House," Nolan insisted firmly, and yet quietly. "You just said you wanted a baby with her, and this baby was taken away from you for no reason. I don't expect you to be fine."

He heaved yet another sigh and eventually gave in. "Okay, I'm not fine. As you said, a kid is not usual, especially for me, and I had to make some efforts, because there was no way I was accepting to live this with Cuddy to be a coward in the end. And just when I'm ready for this, for this big change, this big thing, Mary dies for no fucking reason, and I feel robbed! I'm sad, angry, helpless, all of the above!" House fell silent to let his words sink in. "Satisfied?" he asked in a more quiet and gentle tone. Now that he had released the emotions that had been building up for so long, he felt just a little more at peace. Nolan nodded silently, impressed. Never had he opened up to this extent. Indeed, he had made some progress. "Well, this has been lovely." He rose, his cane already in his hand.

"Does your leg hurt?" the doctor asked casually, in a voice that did not sound like pity or worry. That was what House liked about him.

"Well, have you seen the rain?" he said, reminding him of the loud clatter against the window. "It's fine," House replied eventually, shrugging his coat on, before picking up Cuddy's from the sofa. "See you next week."

"See you, Greg," Nolan greeted him as he stood up and turned around. House opened the door, revealing Cuddy sitting idly on the bench. She grinned. "Doctor Cuddy."

"Thanks for seeing us, doctor Nolan," she said with a smile. "Have a nice afternoon." They walked away leisurely, arm in arm. "How did it go?" she asked as they made their way towards the lift.

"It went like an appointment with Nolan," he said casually. "Just fine." She acquiesced, let go of his arm and took her woollen coat from him. He watched as she slipped it on, gracefully pulled her hair out of the garment and let it tumble back on her shoulders, tilting her chin up.

"You look better," he said, noticing the small patches of wet hair sticking to her temples. Her cheeks were a light pink and her eyes livelier.

"Thanks." The doors slid open. "So we're home in an hour," she said absently, glancing at her watch.

"What time is it?"

"Three o'clock."

The elevator halted with a small bounce and they walked into the hallway. "Better go downtown to pick up Rachel then."

"Yeah."

"What do you say to some window-shopping in some estate agencies in the meantime?"

She smiled, "I say yes. Have you thought of a replacement for your bike, by the way?"

He shrugged, "It can wait." He halted in front of the doors, Cuddy looking up at him. "We don't have an umbrella, do we?"

She rolled her eyes, took off her coat and held it up. "You're such a pussy. Grab this." He did as he was told, seizing the edge of the garment and holding it above his head as a makeshift umbrella. Cuddy took the other end of her coat and opened the door. A heavy rain was pouring outside, but the clouds were a bright white. It would not last long.

"Ready?" she asked him.

"Now who's the pussy?" She chuckled. They climbed down the few wet steps carefully, walking towards the car faster once they were safely on the ground. Her coat was soaked and had lost its usefulness within seconds. They picked up pace, even though they were drenched by the time House was fumbling in his pockets to find the keys, exposed to the rain as he had told Cuddy to wait by the passenger door.

"Can I drive?" she shouted over the clattering noise. He stared at her in mock weariness.

"You just couldn't ask earlier?" Nevertheless, he threw the keys towards her and limped to the passenger's side. They hurried to settle in the car and turn on the heater. Cuddy reached behind her to spread her soaked coat on the back seat. She turned to House, their eyes met and they burst out laughing.

"Oh, look at you," she said, her hand ruffling his wet hair tenderly. House lunged towards her and his lips crashed on hers. She was startled for a second but welcomed his kiss happily. Her arms wrapped around his neck while his own surrounded her frame and pulled her closer to him, as she parted her lips and their tongues met in an unexpectedly passionate frenzy. He was so proud of her. So proud that she was on the way to dealing with her grief. That she was not going to let herself be beaten down. That she was fighting to pull through this for Rachel and for him too. He loved her so much. He bequeathed into their embrace all his feelings, holding her tightly. And she understood. A chill ran up her spine and she moaned into his mouth, kissing him as ravenously. She felt safe, cherished. Loved. Nothing could happen to her because House was going to be by her side every step of the way. He'd been watching over her, leading her to healing, and he would not give up on her.

"Ever done it in a car?" he asked mischievously when they had to pull apart, running out of air. She grinned, resting her forehead against his own.

"No."

"Seriously? Are you sure you went to college?"

She giggled, "I meant no, we're not doing it in a car in the middle of a parking lot right now in broad daylight."

"Come on, we need to warm up," he insisted playfully, his hand travelling down her spine. She arched into his touch, kissing his lips briefly. "Wouldn't want to catch cold," he added in between tiny kisses. She pointed at the heater with the chin he was devouring. "Not fast enough." His lips went back to pecking hers, trying to tempt her.

"I doubt we have enough room," she said, nuzzling his neck. He looked around her car. They could probably settle in the back seat, but they would not be able to move much. They were not as supple and lithe as they had been in their twenties.

"I know, I'm that big." She chuckled. "Okay then," he agreed, letting her bury her nose in his neck and holding her tighter. She breathed in his scent and purred like a contented kitten. As the rain was rattling against their peace harbour, frenzy naturally led to tenderness. He never wanted to let go of her.

* * *

><p><em>TBC...<em>


	41. Chapter 40

_Hello everyone!_

_First of all, I am truly, absolutely sorry to have taken so much time to update this story. This is my last year in high school and I thought I'd have time to myself, and it turns out that I don't. When I do have time though, I don't have inspiration. I did try to appeal to it by working on something else (which will be published shortly, hehe), but so far nothing. So I've started writing the next chapter, but as I have no idea what I'm going to make happen in there... Well, we'll see how it turns out. I am hoping to at least write the damn chapter by the end of the year. I **will** finish the story though, no matter how long it takes.  
><em>

_If you're still sticking with me and this story, you have my everlasting gratitude :)_

_Many thanks to IHeartHouseCuddy for taking a look at this chapter, and to you guys for the amazing feedback you left last time! _

_There is a mention of child abuse but in my opinion it's mild, it's really mild. The story of the androgynous humans is from Plato's _Symposium_, and I don't remember if _Evening_ is a good movie but there were a bunch of actors that I really really like, so the performance must have been great._

_Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy this chapter!_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Forty<strong>

* * *

><p><em>Bed rest – day... She's lost count, maybe it's been a week. She is bored to death. The weather keeps getting colder and days shrink little by little, bringing an odd sense of weariness. She watches the sunlight fade a little earlier every day and sighs when she has to resign herself to switch her bedside lamp on.<em>

_Day one was not bad. House brought her a big breakfast in bed so as to apologize for having to make sure she only gets up to empty her bladder._

_Day two, and the days after that, were verging on boredom but it was bearable. She read a little and took a nap. House stayed with her to distract her._

_Today is boring. She thought she'd enjoy it for at least a week, that she'd have time to read all the books she's been wanting to read, to watch films she's been wanting to watch. But remaining idle for days does not fit with a woman like her, who is used to work doggedly until impossible hours. She flips through magazines that have been flipped through a dozen times already, turns on her laptop only to realise she has no clue what she could do with it, wriggles in bed as much as her belly allows her to. Bored._

_In the middle of the afternoon, she feigns to take a nap. He takes the bait. Once House is busy in the living-room, she practically jumps out of bed and throws herself at the window, opening it wide. The air is algid, covers her skin with goosebumps and makes her teary-eyed, but she is too happy embracing the wintry wind to care. She takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, and she feels free. Alive. She could fly out of here and up, up into the clear and cloudless sky._

"_Cuddy, what the hell are you doing?" She hears his steps coming ominously closer to her. Quickly, she fills her lungs with as much fresh air as she can. He slams the window shut, earning a deathly glare from her._

"_Can I at least breathe? Is that allowed? Or maybe it's too dangerous?"_

_He grabs her elbow gently and tries to lead her to the bed. "Come on, you're going to catch cold." She does not move._

"_You know what, you're not my dad," she snaps, coldly yanking her arm free._

_House points at her tummy, "No, but I'm _her_ dad." She sighs and sits on her bed, caressing her stomach. He is right. Whatever it takes, she has to protect her baby, even if it means she has to be bored all day. This life growing inside her is her responsibility, and it is too precious for her to risk it. House gazes at her disappointed and frustrated pout for a moment, before he settles beside her. "Tonight," he says. "Tonight, we're going outside, okay?"_

_She glances up at him, an interested spark glinting in her eyes. "Where?"_

"_The front yard," he offers, a little sheepishly. He truly has nothing better to suggest to her; it is the closest to home. "With blankets and tea and everything."_

"_I guess it's better than nothing." Reluctantly, she threads her way back under the sheets and lies down onto her back._

"_Why don't we watch a movie?" he suggests. She shrugs offhandedly. "The one you told me about the other day. I think it's called _Evening_ or something."_

"_Oh, yeah." She smiles, touched that he'd remember a film she mentioned only briefly a while ago. "_Evening_."_

"_You still haven't seen it, have you?" She averts her eyes from the ceiling. He is smirking knowingly. She shakes her head no with a grin._

"_Grab your laptop," he says, disappearing into the corridor. He returns shortly, throwing himself on the bed with a DVD case and a pack of popcorn. Sitting up, she sets her laptop on the bed, and waits patiently for House to play the film._

"_When did you get it?" she asks as she pats her pillow and settles more comfortably._

"_This morning, after I dropped Rachel at school." Once the opening credits appear on the screen, she cannot help giggling with excitement. "What are you laughing about?" he asks, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to bring her closer to him._

"_Nothing." She rests her head on his shoulder. "You're incredible."_

_Once they've eaten dinner, Cuddy stands up from her chair to help House clear the table. Gently, he taps her hand holding a short pile of plates and tells her to 'go sit her big ass on the couch'. She does so grudgingly, with Rachel on her heels. They watch some TV huddled together, and Cuddy has to admit that spending some cuddly time with her daughter is one of the – few – benefits of bed rest. The kid could not agree more._

_House washed the dishes, put Rachel to bed, and dragged an enormous pile of blankets into the hallway._

"_I had no idea there were so many blankets in my house," she says, counting six of them._

"_Ah, but I'm a resourceful man."_

"_House, we're not gonna need all of them tonight." Oblivious, he fetches a thermos in the kitchen, before grabbing his coat from the cupboard, as well as hers, and a woollen hat, a pair of gloves, her scarf and her fur-lined boots. "I'm sure as hell not going to catch a cold," she grumbles a little._

"_Not taking risks, sorry," he shrugs, though he does not seem apologetic at all. He waits until she is covered with wool and pushes the blankets outside. He throws two on the grass, one above the other, and asks Cuddy to lay right in the middle of them. She does so and he covers her with yet another layer of wool. He settles by her side, lifting her head a bit so she can rest it on his stomach, and drapes a blanket across his legs, before setting the baby monitor right beside him._

"_Your tea," he says, handing the vacuum flask to her._

"_Thank you," she smiles. She takes a sip and heaves a content sigh. House was right, the weather is frosty, but she enjoys the sting of the cold on her cheeks. She blows some air and watches the white wreaths dance in front of her eyes. His steady breath rocks her head gently. A few minutes pass by peacefully._

"_It's our lucky night," she says, staring at the black sky. "There's a star. We don't get to seem them very often."_

_He frowns, "No."_

"_Then what's that?" She points at a shiny white dot. "An alien spaceship?"_

"_That would be cool." He observes it for a few seconds sailing through the pitch dark ocean at a snail's pace. "Nah it's only a plane. See the red and green lights?"_

_She narrows her eyes. "Oh, yeah, right," she says, though she does not sound convinced. "Well, it doesn't fly so fast, no wonder I thought it was a star. Want some tea?" she asks him before he can say anything else._

"_I hate tea."_

"_I know." She smirks and takes another sip. "It's my tea and you can't have it."_

"_You're such a tease."_

"_You love it." They chuckle. "Take me to the beach," she blurts out._

"_What?" is all he can manage to respond._

"_I'm so sick of winter. And I haven't been on an actual holiday for so long," she suspires. "I could use a trip to the beach. We could go to Florida. They have a nice weather down there right now. They celebrate Christmas on the beach, can you imagine?"_

"_You don't celebrate Christmas," he comments._

"_Why not next weekend? Rachel has never been to the beach, she'd love it!"_

_He sighs wearily. "No, Cuddy."_

"_Why not?"_

"_First of all, you're not getting into a plane. Trust me, you don't want your water to break at thirty-six thousand feet."_

"_Then drive us there," she shrugs, turning to him._

"_It's over a thousand miles from here, are you insane?" She pouts. "It's not happening."_

_Cuddy seems to have accepted his answer, until she lets out, "I want to live on a boat. Just imagine, though. It's small but you can go wherever you want, take a swim or sunbathe whenever you want."_

_He rolls his eyes. "It's only the hormones talking."_

"_I guess. Tell me a story," she demands._

"_Just because you're full of hormones, doesn't mean you can ask for anything."_

"_Pwease," she insists, batting her eyelashes even though he can't see it._

_He sighs, and then smiles. She won. "Do you know the story of the androgynous humans?" She shakes her head no. He licks his lips and musters his thoughts for a second. "A long, long time ago, in a faraway land called ancient Greece –" _

"_I know what ancient Greece is," she interrupts him._

"_Shut up, you're ruining the story." Cuddy giggles. "In a faraway land called ancient Greece, long before Socrates and Diogenes of Sinope, there were three genders of humans. Women, men and the union of the two which was named androgynous. Women were women as we know them now, and men were men as we know them now. Androgynous humans, they were both a man and a woman. They –"_

_She rolls her eyes, "Duh, everybody knows that."_

"_Shh!" She laughs. "You wanted me to tell you a story, let me tell you the damn story. They were two humans as one, like conjoined twins. They were round, perfectly round, they had four arms and four legs, two heads facing away on a perfectly round neck. They were very nimble, and very strong, since they had eight limbs. They were so nimble that when they ran, they actually did cartwheels."_

_Cuddy bursts out laughing, "Get out! You're making that up!"_

"_Of course I am," he rolls his eyes. "It's a story. So they were nimble, and strong. So strong that they decided to try and climb up the sky and attack the gods. Zeus got mad. And nothing good happens when the old bearded man gets mad. He was a little embarrassed, since he could not slay humans like he had done with the Giants, because then who'd make sacrifices for him and the other gods?"_

"_Makes sense," she agreed._

"_So he had a wild idea. Zeus said, 'I shall slice these fuckers in two. Therefore, they will be weakened and will make twice as many sacrifices. If the fuckers keep going at us, I'll slice them in two again, and they'll look fucking ridiculous hopping around on a single leg.'"_

"_Smart guy."_

"_So he did just that. The third gender became men and women. Zeus asked Apollo to heal their wounds and make them a little less ugly, because they were wrinkled as fuck due to their separation. So Apollo gathered the skin to their stomach and tied it up, which is why humans have a navel. But that's not the end of the story. Men and women were looking desperately for their other halves. When they did find it, they'd hug but they couldn't unite, and they died from misery."_

"_What? That's horrible, why couldn't they unite?"_

"_Because their genitalia were located on their butts."_

_She titters, "Bummer."_

"_Humans would lay eggs into the ground so as to procreate. Zeus took pity on them and moved their genitalia to their front. Therefore, two halves that found each other could unite and have sex and everything. Those who didn't still died of misery but hey, they could have looked harder, right?"_

"_Huh."_

"_The end," he announced quietly._

_She stares up at the sky and, truly enchanted, she lets the story sink in. "So the quest for the other half is a definition of love."_

"_Yep."_

_She thinks about it and smiles. Although she has a pretty good idea of what his answer is going to be, she asks, "do you think you'd be my other half?"_

"_God, I was expecting that question." She chuckles. He shrugs, "Who cares? It isn't a true story anyway. Aristophanes made it all up."_

"_Quit being so damn logical and answer the question."_

"_This question is a trap. No answer is acceptable since you're full of hormones." His hand rests on her shoulder and his thumb strokes it gently. "I refuse to answer it."_

"_Okay then." She pretends to brood for a moment. He takes the bait._

"_I'm not dying of misery," he declares solemnly. "Are you?"_

"_Nope. Guess we're two halves then."_

_Pause. "This is stupid."_

"_It's not!" she protests, slapping his calf gently. "It's a very beautiful story actually. We have to save it for Rachel and Offspring!" she exclaims enthusiastically._

"_Yeah." He sighs._

"_House?" Concerned, Cuddy rolls on her side and sets her chin on his chest. "What is it?"_

_He stares up into the bleak infinity, "I'm a little scared," he admits in a murmur._

_She frowns, "Scared of what?"_

_He keeps silent for a few seconds. "Of being a dad," he blurts out._

"_House, why would you be scared of being a dad?" He does not reply. "You're already a dad, you're Rachel's dad." Still no reaction. She decides to shift around and lay on her flank beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. His hands remain clasped tightly on his belly. She waits in silence for him._

"_Did you know that seventy percent of abused children turn into abusive adults?" he says at last._

"_Since when does Doctor Gregory House care about statistics?" she tries to tease him, but he is not in a mood for a laugh. She knows where this conversation is heading. Back then in med school she figured out that his father was abusive but House never told her the details. He is just about to. And she hates that his father, dead and buried, is still able to break him after all this time, because a minute ago he was telling her a story and laughing with her. "House, you're not abusive," she reassures him. "You've never hit Rachel. You've never hit me."_

"_I have, Cuddy. I almost killed you while I was detoxing, remember?"_

"_You weren't yourself."_

"_Doesn't mean it won't happen again."_

_She scoffs, "You don't seriously think that. You're not capable of it."_

"_You don't know that."_

"_I do. I know you." Her arm wraps around his abdomen. "If you thought you could hit me, why are you with me?" she asks him, hoping for a second that he will not get up and leave._

_She has a point. He has to give it some brief thought."Because I'm an idiot."_

_She rolls her eyes, "If I thought you could hit me, why would I be with you?"_

"_Because you're an idiot."_

"_Right, because you'd date an idiot." He glances down at her out of the tail of his eyes. The tiniest of smirks draws on his lips, which she reciprocates. "I would never, ever, let you try and hurt us." Although the look on his face is fleeting, he seems reassured._

"_I know." Silence settles for a moment. "But you know that abuse isn't only physical."_

"_Yes, okay," she concedes. "You've said some harsh things to me in the past. But think about it." She rests her hand on his sternum and lays her chin on her knuckles. "You told me I'd suck as a mother."_

_He sighs, "I did, and I'm so–"_

"_What were the circumstances?"_

"_Cuddy, you don't have to find excuses for me. I –"_

"_Shut up and answer the question."_

_He thinks about it for a few seconds. "I couldn't solve my case, I was in pain, I didn't have enough Vicodin."_

"_See, it's not your fault. At all." A small smile draws on her lips, but not on his own._

"_That's debatable." Cuddy rolls her eyes."And that's only one example."_

"_You told me to go suckle the bastard that makes me feel good about myself, or something like that. Circumstances?"_

"_Oh, God." He rubs his face. "I am so, so –"_

"_I know," she interrupts him once more. "Circumstances."_

_House gulps. "I was hallucinating."_

"_Which is not your fault."_

"_Shouldn't have taken that much Vicodin."_

_She sighs and places two fingers on his lips. "Oh, House, don't do that. You're off the Vicodin now. It won't happen again. Everybody has bad days. And it's okay." Her hands slip quietly to his hair and comb it tenderly._

"_I still have bad days," he replies. "When the pain's really bad, I may snap at you or Rachel."_

"_So what?" she shrugs. "I snap at you too when I'm tired. Remember when I had just had a horrible day and I went to sleep on the couch, you told me you'd sleep in the living-room instead and I just burst?"_

_He smirks, "Yeah."_

"_When Rachel was hopping around while we were cooking dinner and it was getting on my nerves?" He nods. "She survived, didn't she?"_

"_She brooded for a while, but yeah." They smile._

"_It's alright to have bad days." Cuddy kisses his mouth lightly and resumes curling up beside him. She knows she managed to lift some of his worries off of his shoulders, but somehow it is not enough. Something is still bugging him. Tentatively, she approaches the subject. "It's gonna be alright. I don't know what your father did to you, but..."_

"_My father," he announces, taking a breath before carrying on in one go. "He was a pilot in the Marine Corps. Not just the army, the actual Marine. It obsessed him. He had all sorts of decorations and badges pinned on his chest all the time, 'my rifle is my best friend', you know? Unfortunately, he let his obsession leak into his private life, which led him to think that I was a fucking Marine recruit. He would not let go of anything, would not tolerate one single, tiny lie, one single mistake. He'd make me sleep in the backyard, no matter the weather or take literally icy baths every time I misbehaved – or did not misbehave, for that matter – to name but a few. He even broke my arm when I was fourteen. I'm not sure he's ever regarded me as his son. So yeah, when that's the only father figure you've ever had, it fucks you up a little."_

_He has to catch his breath when he's finished. She braced herself thinking he did not need her compassion, her pity or her sadness, but she can't prevent her tears from rushing to her eyes. She imagines him as a terrified little boy, a massive figure towering over him threateningly and her heart breaks into smithereens while it pounds with rage in her chest. Taking a deep breath discreetly, she clears her voice of her sobs before she speaks. "But you're not that man, House. You won't make the same mistakes."_

"_Not this exactly, but..." He sighs. "You know me, Cuddy. I've hurt you before."_

"_I know. I told you, it wasn't your fault." She wipes her tears with the back of her hand. "I've forgiven you."_

"_But the girls? Will they?"_

_Cuddy embraces him tighter. "You won't hurt them. I won't let you." He grasps her arm and she pecks his cheek tenderly. "Just trust me." His arm wraps around her. Peacefully, they listen to the quiet night around them. She knows he is thinking about his father, lost deep in his memories, but she can't help it. So she waits until he's come out of it and tries to bring him any support she can by hugging him. _

"_Thank you," he murmurs at last. She hums questioningly. "For saving me from myself."_

"_Sure."_

"_There's something else," he speaks up after a moment._

"_What is it?" She brings her blanket up to her shoulders._

"_I'm not sure if I can bound with Offspring," he blurts, resolutely avoiding her glance. "It's going to be a first time for me."_

"_I know. You'll do great."_

"_When I hold a baby, I feel..." He stumbles on the word, then carries on hesitantly. "Nothing."_

"_That's okay. I felt nothing too with Rachel on the first days," she reminds him._

"_Yeah, I remember."_

"_It's normal." She turns to him. "You'll get past this like I did."_

"_Except that you got past this because you have a heart –"_

_Cuddy interrupts him with a scoff, "Oh, here we go."_

"_It's easy to say it now, but when she's going to be here –"_

"_Houuuuse." With a sigh, she props herself up on her elbow and stares into his eyes, waiting for him to meet her gaze. "Did you feel something when you held Rach for the first time?"_

_He takes a moment to answer. She is not sure whether he has to consider it or he doesn't dare admit it to her. "Not really. I mean, she was just a newborn."_

"_What about now?"_

_He furrows his brows, "I don't hold her that often."_

_She does not even bother letting him know that she has already witnessed him countless times hugging Rachel when he wakes her up. "Maybe not, but she holds your hand sometimes. You ruffle her hair, too. You do that a lot."_

"_Well... I don't know, Cuddy," he yields. "Maybe there's something."_

"_There is. I know. You bonded." She smiles. "Don't worry. I understand it was different with Rachel because you got involved in her life when she was three. I guess it's easier because she has her own personality, you know. Whereas babies, they're not really fun, I get it. They poop, they cry, they sleep, can't have a conversation with them. If you're not used to them, they can get pretty annoying and exasperating. But Offspring, you'll hold her in your arms the second she's born." She pauses just so she can picture the scene; he's clad in blue scrubs, a hygiene cap on his head, and a small bundle of soft pink blankets is nestled in his arms. He looks dazzled at first, a little confused, but then he turns to Cuddy with a moved and rapid glance, and he dares touch his daughter's face with his hesitant fingertip. "And she's your biological daughter." Her eyes glint with happy tears, which she does not let herself shed. "You can't fight that. And you've already bonded with her. You talk to my tummy, and you touch it. Sometimes she kicks just because you're around. She recognizes you. You're her daddy." Cuddy rubs his shoulder gently and grins. He observes her without a word. "It's going to be just fine, House." She senses his awkwardness. Having such conversations is not easy for him and she is incredibly grateful he opened up so much to her. Time to let his fragile self go back to its hiding place. "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm nodding off a little."_

"_You're getting old." She laughs. "Is that a grey spot?" he asks, reaching out to touch her hair._

"_Oh, shut up," she giggles, intercepting his hand before kissing the back of his knuckles. He gazes into her eyes, as though dazzled by her. What she sees is pure devotion and gratefulness. She smiles against his skin._

"_Don't catch cold," he urges her inside. "Go home."_

_She stands up and grabs her thermos, wrapping her blanket around her frame. "You're not packing this up on your own."_

"_I am." He rises and throws his blanket on the ones spread out on the grass. "Go."_

_She narrows her eyes at him but does as she is told. Once she is on the doorstep, she turns around to see him limping backwards towards her, dragging the covers with him._

"_How ingenious," she comments before shutting the door once he's inside. Although he protests vehemently, she helps him fold the blankets – she needs to do something. They put them away in a closet, head to the bathroom and then to bed, having changed for the night and brushed their teeth. Cuddy groans a little when she lies down, instantly catching his attention._

"_You okay?"_

"_Yeah." He rolls onto his flank and sets his hand on her belly. "My back aches a little. It's fine." Immediately, he reaches under his head and motions for her to lift her hips so he can place his pillow underneath her. "Oh my God," she exhales with delight when her painful back sinks into the soft cushion. "Can I keep it forever?"_

_He nods, "You'll have to give me some room though."_

_Cuddy smiles and pulls at her own pillow, offering him half of it. She lifts her head and lets his arm thread its way under her nuque. "You good?" He acquiesces. Cuddy holds out her arm and switches the light off._

"_Night Cuddy," he says, kissing her temple. "Offspring," he salutes her tummy with a caress._

"_Night." He adjusts more comfortably. "House? It was fun. Our, uh, camping. Thanks."_

"_Like I had a choice." She rolls her eyes though she knows he is smiling._

* * *

><p><em>TBC...<em>


	42. Chapter 41

_Hello everyone! So we haven't seen each other in a while, huh? :/ Once again I am really sorry about this. I promise I will not keep you waiting four months for the next chapter! (since it's already written and beta'd and ready to go. I just have to figure out what I'm going to write next \o/)_

_This was corrected by IHeartHouseCuddy, whom I thank for that :) Also thank you to anyone who left feedback and/or encouragements, took time to read. I really appreciate that. It keeps me writing. So thank you!_

_I hope you'll enjoy this chapter!_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Forty-One<strong>

* * *

><p>Cuddy opened her eyes wide and let her jaw drop slightly, leaning forward against the counter as she smeared her eyelashes with mascara, insisting at their base and curling them upwards. She blinked, wiped with her pinkie the little black dots that had appeared right below her neatly plucked eyebrow, and compared her eyes – yes, mascara did make a difference. She carefully repeated the same gestures on her right eye. Applying makeup, even though it was nothing more than adding a darker shade to her gaze and a pink touch to her lips, felt remotely foreign to her. She had not opened her vanity case, let alone gotten ready for a night out, in months – when she opened her bottle of black nail polish, she realised with a twinge in her heart that she had carelessly let it dry up. She took a step back and examined her reflection in the mirror. She had meticulously washed her hair and dried it, letting it wave but not curl, which had taken her more time than it used to. She sighed, realising that she indeed had given up on her femininity during her pregnancy. She had been stuck in bed wearing pajamas for weeks, what was the point of making a special effort to look good, apart from washing and maintaining her pilosity under control? So she enjoyed getting ready for her date with Pete, even daring to don a black dress, its sleeves extending to her elbows, not low cut or close fitting enough to enhance her swollen breasts and fat stomach. She ruffled her mane a little, picked a pair of black pearl drop earrings and slipped them on. She looked good, and she was right on time.<p>

"Mama you're beautiful!" Rachel exclaimed when her mother walked into the livingroom, finding her drawing on the coffee table with the diagnostician.

"Thank you honey," she grinned, kissing the crown of her head, before sitting down beside House on the rug. "What are you guys planning to do with uncle Wilson?"

"That's up to the kid," House said, gently tucking a lock of Cuddy's hair behind her ear. She turned to him with an erubescent smile.

"I wanna watch Nemooooo!"

"Not again," House mouthed silently.

"You know, it's a great idea," she said. "I think it's uncle Wilson's favorite movie."

"It's _Vertigo_," he mouthed to Cuddy again. She rolled her eyes and stood up when she heard a knock on the front door.

Naturally, House lent an ear.

"Hi," she greeted the man at the door. "You wanna come in and have a drink?" When Pete declined politely, she told him she was going to get her shoes and she would be back in a second. He watched her scuttle to the closet, her dark stockings gliding easily across the wooden floor.

"Oh, Pete, what a surprise," he heard Wilson say. House then limped to the entry door, watching Rachel out of the tail of his eye. When he passed the closet, Cuddy was leaning a hand against the wall and elegantly bending her leg to slip a black kitten heel on.

"Hey," he greeted Wilson. "You got my moo shu pork?"

"Sure." He brandished the bag of takeout. "I'll go set things up." Rachel screamed his name with joy when he entered the livingroom.

House could finally take a good look at Pete as he extended his hand to him. "Doctor Greg House," he said, shamelessly emphasising his title.

"Pete Quinn, hi." When the librarian shook his hand, House made sure to practically crush it. He was handsome, he had to admit it, a square jaw and bright green eyes – average handsome, and smaller than him. Since he had not climbed the final step to the door, House was towering him and he relished seeing that slightly uneasy look on his face.

"I'm ready," Cuddy announced as she appeared behind House, having kissed her daughter good night. She slipped her woollen coat on, grabbed her purse and kissed House's cheek but, while she stepped outside, he grabbed her hand and pressed a lingering kiss to her lips. She gave him an awkward and slightly confused smile. Pete looked away. He let her go. "Have fun, you guys," she told him as she walked out.

"Yeah, you too." He shut the door and watched them leave through the small window. Like a true gentleman, Pete opened his car door for her. House scoffed.

"What?" Wilson called out from the livingroom.

"He held the door open for her. What an idiot," House rolled his eyes, plumping down beside him.

"Yeah, being polite really sucks." He turned to the kid. "What movie are we watching, Sweetie?" Rachel fetched her copy of _Finding Nemo_ and showed him, smiling her thousand watt smile. "Nice choice, you know how to set it up?" She shook her head, Wilson rose to turn the DVD player on.

"He's trying to score points by holding the door for her and everything," House continued. "It's never gonna work. Cuddy doesn't want to bother with people who bow before her."

The oncologist sighed and handed her bowl of chicken noodles to Rachel, who sat on his lap. "I wouldn't worry if I were you. She's all yours."

House furrowed his brows. "I'm not worried."

Rachel waved her hands frantically. "Shhh, shhh, shhh! 'T'startin'!"

Of course he wasn't worried, he told himself with an inner shake of the head.

"S'too hot," Rachel told Wilson with a small pout, showing him her bowl. He took it and blew on the broth gently.

They watched the movie quietly, Rachel shushing them effectively if they tried speaking, the silence punctuated with the kid's amused giggles or surprised gasps. She might have watched the movie at least a hundred times, but she would always get excited. However, after barely an hour, House could tell that Rachel was going to fall asleep, though she was struggling to stay awake. She was curled up to the couch, her head resting on Wilson's lap and her eyes blinking slowly.

"Wanna go to bed?" he asked her quietly.

"No." She yawned fantastically and rubbed her eyes. "Wanna watch Nemo."

"If you fall asleep now," he said as he stood up and gathered all the empty cartons. "You're gonna miss the end of the movie. But if we put you to bed, you can watch the rest tomorrow."

She stared up at him, mentally weighing the pros and cons. It seemed fair enough. "Okay." She sat up while House turned off the TV and DVD player and Wilson headed to the kitchen to throw the empty packages away. "Where 'you goin' uncle Wilson?" she called after him with worried eyes, then turned to his friend. "You said 'we'."

"I said..." He quickly replayed the conversation in his head. He had. "You want Wilson _and _I to put you to bed?" The kid nodded and thrust her open arms towards the oncologist. He hurried to abandon the cartons in the trash, washed his hands and bent over to pick her up. "Relax," House told him as they headed to the bathroom. "I've done this a couple times before. She already had her bath. We only have to brush her teeth, her hair, then put her to bed."

Wilson raised his furry eyebrows. "You seem to have done this more than a couple times."

He shrugged. "Just gave Cuddy a hand from time to time. She has a special way of thanking me, if you know what I mean." Wilson looked at him and blinked. He obviously didn't buy it. "Oh, believe what you want."

Rachel stared up at the oncologist expectantly. He slid the pink plastic stool from under the washbasin towards her. "So, uh... Teeth first?" Rachel nodded and climbed on the step. She grabbed her llama-shaped toothbrush and her tube of strawberry toothpaste. Wilson was quick to intervene when she squeezed the tube forcefully and emptied half of it on the brush. "Nooo, not so much toothpaste, sweetie." With his finger, Wilson removed the extra toothpaste and let it drop in the sink. "Here."

She turned to him with a grin. "Hows always brushes his teeth wi'me."

"Oh, this is gonna be interesting," House said as he sat on the edge of the tub. "There's an extra toothbrush in the upper drawer. And you can use my toothpaste, even I am not that cruel."

Wilson faltered for a second, then rolled up his shirt's sleeves and unwrapped the toothbrush. He smeared toothpaste on it and put it in his mouth, watching Rachel's reaction in the mirror. She imitated him and didn't move. Rolling his eyes at the diagnostician stifling his laughter, he started brushing his teeth. Rachel gazed at him intently and copied his movements. When he bent over to spit it into the sink, House raised his arm and showed him his watch.

"It hasn't been three minutes yet, uncle Wilson!"

"You have to 'rush your 'eeth for 'ree minutes," Rachel reminded him. Wilson shook his head and kept going until House let him know that the three minutes were up. He sighed as he stained his maroon tie while he spewed the toothpaste into the washbasin. Rachel filled her cup with water and rinsed her mouth.

"Hows, how're my teeth?" she asked as she smiled wide to show him.

"Perfect, Rach." She handed him her bright purple hair brush and showed him her back. "You know that teeth aren't properly brushed_ unless_ you brush them for at least three minutes."

"Nah." Rachel giggled. "Then you get a lot of nasty _batria._"

"Bacteria," he corrected. House smirked up at Wilson, who forgot all reasons to be annoyed when he looked at them. House had delicately gathered all of her chestnut hair to the back of her head, splayed it on his wrist and was brushing it carefully. It was sweet – gosh, he had never thought he would ever associate _House_ and _sweet._

"Okay," he said as he rose. "Time to pee." He headed outside with Wilson and closed the door. Just as the oncologist was going to tell him how adorable he and Rachel were, his phone rang. "It's Cuddy," he said as he picked up. "Hey. ...of course, you're a grown woman. Where is he taking you?"

Wilson observed him. They seemed fine, much better than a few days earlier when House had more or less abandoned her at the hospital, even though it was only a façade. He was aware that both of them were crumbling away inside, but they were recovering. It reassured him to see them act normally towards each other.

"I will. See ya." He hung up as Rachel opened the door. "I didn't hear you flushing. Did you flush?"

"Uh, I forgot." She walked back in to do it and put the seat down. "You comin'?" she asked House, who then followed her into the bedroom. Wilson understood that he wasn't invited, but still wanted to tell her good night. He escorted them to the doorway.

"Aren't you going to kiss me goodbye?" he asked then with a sad pout. Rachel ran to him and he bent over to let her kiss his check.

"Goo'bye uncle Wilson," she sang.

"Goodnight, kiddo." He ruffled her hair, much to House's annoyance.

"I just brushed it!" With a smile, Wilson stepped out. However, out of curiosity, he discretely glanced into the room. House had lifted Rachel into his arms and was embracing her – a good night hug, probably. He told her that her mom would come back too late to see her but she would be there when she woke up.

"I want Momma," Rachel objected, her lower lip quivering. House knew exactly what was coming. He was used to it. Rachel was a big girl, but sometimes it was impossible to go to bed without her mommy. It had happened a few times when he had babysat her. He had managed to calm her down every time, but these days Cuddy had not been very present for her daughter. She had not seen her kid for over a week and now that they were back home, although Cuddy was there when it came to playing with her daughter, House was the one bathing her and taking her to school – but after what had happened, could he blame her?

He stroked her back slowly. "You'll see her tomorrow," he promised. "She'll be right here with you."

There – she began to cry. "Wanna ta'k to her!"

He considered it for a second. "Okay, why don't we give her a call?" Rachel nodded enthusiastically. He called out Wilson's name. "Give me the phone, will you?" Once he had the receiver in his hand, he dialled Cuddy's cell number and handed it to Rachel, who sat on her bed. House stayed by her side, watched her calm down gradually as she listened to her mother. After a minute, she gave him the phone back and curled up under the covers.

"Hey, sorry about that," he apologized to Cuddy, before agreeing to prepare a glass of warm milk for Rachel. "I'll be back with your milk in a second," he told the kid after he hung up, kissing the crown of her head. It did not take him long. Rachel gulped it down and settled to go to sleep. "Good night Rach," he whispered as he left the room.

"Night Hows." He switched the lights off and left the door ajar.

"Want a beer while you tell me all about the latest gossips in the hospital?" he asked, turning to his friend.

Wilson grinned. "That would be nice."

* * *

><p>"So where are we going?" Cuddy asked once Pete had settled beside her.<p>

He shrugged. "I don't know. It's your pick." He turned the ignition key. His car was old – he had hanged an evergreen-shaped air freshener on the rearview mirror, but the pine scent could not completely hide the characteristic odour of old vehicles. It reminded her of House's car, the old Dodge Dinasty he had eventually gotten rid of when they had proceeded to move in together. Apart from a blanket splayed out on the backseat, there were no personal belongings, not even a bobblehead, spare change or old receipts. She had to fight the impulse to take a look inside the glove compartment.

"I haven't been downtown since forever. Just take me to your favorite restaurant."

"Alright, your wish is my command." He turned to her briefly and smiled, before returning his attention to the road. She smiled back. "What do you want to eat? Chinese? Italian?"

She frowned, "I don't know, don't you have a favorite restaurant above all else?"

"Well, I don't cook," he explained. "Or barely. Everything I eat is takeout. I've tried every restaurant in the area, that's why I have a favorite for each category."

She raised her eyebrows. "Huh. I don't cook either, I'm gonna want that list."

"Oh, I don't know," he hesitated jokingly. "It was very tedious."

She chuckled. "Yes, I'm sure, I hate eating too."

"No, really. Man, I've eaten some shit." She laughed harder. "There was this Italian restaurant. They're closed now. Their spaghetti were literally crunchy. And they called themselves an Italian restaurant." He shook his head. "You don't kid with spaghetti."

"Well, I've recently learned to cook spaghetti."

"You said you didn't cook?" he asked.

"I do, I have a daughter. Can't feed her takeout. But I really suck at it, so I let House handle it most of the time." He acquiesced. "He makes incredible spaghetti!"

"I don't even make spaghetti." They laughed. "It must be a big step for you."

"Oh, you have no idea. Did you know you had to stir the water?"

"You have to put the spaghetti into water?" She laughed. "No, what does it change?"

"I don't know!" They were in stitches. She briefly thought that she had not had that much fun since Mary.

"Hey, you wanna eat spaghetti?" Pete asked her when they had caught their breaths.

"I don't know, I had spaghetti two days ago."

"Ah, I know it's important to keep a varied diet, but come on. The best spaghetti in Princeton!"

"Don't say that, you haven't tasted mine yet." He laughed. "Okay," she agreed enthusiastically. "Okay!"

"Spaghetti it is!" he confirmed merrily. They had already reached the core of Princeton. "It's just a couple blocks from here."

Cuddy finally paid attention to her surroundings and frowned. None of the buildings rang a bell. "What street is this?"

"Uh, Lyndale Avenue. How long have you been living in Princeton?"

She chuckled and felt warmth spreading across her cheeks. "Fifteen years."

"So you weren't lying when you said you haven't been downtown since forever."

"I know the area around Baker Street," she said. "It's something!"

"Um, Baker Street, let's see. Not many restaurants around there."

"Shut up!" She hit his arm playfully and they laughed. She had seldom felt that comfortable when getting to know someone. She relished it. Spending time with a friend who did not behold her as the mother who had just lost her child would be refreshing. "I don't have the occasion to go downtown very often with my job."

"You're a Dean of Medicine, is that right?"

"Yeah. It's demanding," she said while he parked in front of the restaurant. "But I couldn't want another job."

"They must have taken good care of you last Saturday, then," he replied, talking louder to make sure she could hear him, as they were stepping out of the car.

"They did. Stitched me up and everything."

"Can I see?" he asked as he walked to her. She nodded, shivered when he touched her face and gently pushed her hair behind her ear to look at the black stitches trailing along her hairline. "It's neat." She felt his breath sweep across her lips as he spoke.

"House's," Cuddy blurted out. "He, uh, I pulled a stitch when I was home. Had to stitch it back up."

Pete stared into her eyes. "Well, I'm glad you're okay." She blinked. Eventually, he smiled and led her to the entrance, holding the door open for her. They settled at a table into a corner. The restaurant was small and quiet, intimate. The lights were rather dim and the tablecloths a gorgeous, deep red. Cuddy sat across from Pete with a pleased grin. They both ordered a plate of spaghetti bolognese, Pete insisting to offer a bottle of Chianti.

While they were waiting to be served, they continued their conversation. "So how often do you jog?" she asked him, nibbling on garlic bread. "This is delicious," she added.

"Every day, pretty much."

She looked up at him. "That's courageous."

Pete shrugged. "It's just my way to get to work. My library is only a little over a mile away. If I'm feeling lazy I'll ride my bike. I'm not a great fan of cars." She nodded. "How about you?"

"Well, I used to play tennis. I started in high school, and I played every week until I got my job. Then I started running once or twice a week because it was way more convenient than tennis, but unfortunately time lacked eventually," she replied. "Then I had to cut out sports altogether for a few months." She was thankful that he didn't ask why. "And now I'm back to practising yoga daily. I'm aiming at losing some weight, actually."

"Why? You look good the way you are." His eyes roamed discretely across her silhouette.

She smiled at the compliment. "That's because I'm sucking in my stomach." They chuckled. At last, a waiter brought them their pasta and elegantly served them both a glass of wine. Pete immediately raised his. "To new friendships," Cuddy grinned. They took a sip, letting the acidic and faintly fruity aroma sink into their mouths.

"It tastes better with food," Pete reassured then. She giggled.

"Let's eat, then." She stabbed the heap of spaghetti and spun her fork expertly, careful not to wrap too much pasta around the piece of cutlery. Her eyes rolled back into her head when she had a taste, the tomatoes exploding and the spaghetti melting on her tongue.

"You see what I was talking about?" he asked with a knowing smile. "The best in Princeton."

"I see it. I _taste_ it," Cuddy acquiesced before washing it down a sip of wine. It was divine. "This is the best I've ever eaten."

"I always go to this restaurant when I had a rough day," he added in between bites. "Such a good meal helps to relax, really."

She hurried to devour another forkful. "When did it open? It's odd I've never heard of it."

He frowned as he strove to remember. "Uh, something like six months ago." She nodded silently, kept eating. "I'll let you enjoy your food." Cuddy chuckled.

"Thanks for the wine, by the way. It wouldn't be the same without it."

"You're welcome," he said with a smile.

"Do you have a diner list too?" she continued. "There's this new one not far from Baker street – don't laugh," she interrupted herself as a grin appeared on his thin lips. "It's really lovely if you're a blues fan."

"Yeah, I've heard of it."

"Their fried eggs are good." Umpteenth forkful. "Their pancakes are good, too."

"I haven't checked it out yet. But yeah, I like blues. I'm more of a jazz fan, though."

Cuddy looked up briskly, a spaghetti peeking out from her mouth. "You, too?" They chuckled. "Who do you listen to?"

"Miles Davis and John Coltrane mainly. What about you?"

"I'm more into free jazz, but I do enjoy John Coltrane from time to time."

"Yeah? Do you have a favorite song?"

They carried on their conversation until their plates were empty. Cuddy leaned back in her chair, utterly satiated.

"Well, that wasn't a bad meal," she concluded. Pete chuckled. "You want some dessert?"

"Nah, I'm full."

"Me, too."

"Would you like to go for a drink?" he asked after taking a deep breath. "I'm buying."

Cuddy hawed for a second. They were only supposed to have dinner. House would be worried if it took her too much time.

Oh, what the hell, she decided. She had earned to have some fun.

She acquiesced with a smile.

They split the bill accordingly and walked out of the restaurant. While they were on their way to the bar – since it was only one block away, they decided to go on foot – she dialled House's number – he had the right to know where she was going. He picked up after the third ring.

"Hey," he greeted her. She heard him limping away to find more privacy.

"House, hey. Pete's inviting me for a drink," she announced tentatively. "Is that okay with you?"

"Of course, you're a grown woman." Only a the hint of an accusatory edge. It could have been worse. "Where is he taking you?"

She had to turn to Pete. "Uh, what's it called again? It's called Beckett's."

"Never heard of it."

"No, me neither. It's downtown. Says he goes there all the time," she reassured him.

"Okay."

"Okay." Silence. "How did it go?" she asked eventually, surprised not to hear her daughter hopping around and asking who was on the phone. "Is Rachel in bed yet?"

"It went just fine. She ate a whole bowl of noodles and a fried banana. She was falling asleep during the movie, thank God. We didn't have to watch all of it." She chuckled. "We're just putting her to bed."

"Okay, good." She smiled. "Kiss Rach good night for me."

"I will. See ya." He blew her a loud kiss through the phone and she giggled.

Barely two minutes had passed when her phone rang again. "Sorry," she apologized to Pete before she took a look at the screen. "It's my home. Do you mind if I –"

"No, of course," he interrupted her. She pressed the green button.

"Hello?"

"Mama!" answered a sobbing Rachel.

"Rachel, what's going on?" She felt her heart race as various scenarios crossed her mind, each more nightmarish than the next. "Why are you crying?"

"Don't wanna go to sleep."

She had to suppress a relieved sigh. "Oh, baby. Why not?"

"Want you," Rachel mumbled.

"But you've got House and uncle Wilson. You're safe."

"Don'twantthemiwantyou!" the little girl blurted out.

Cuddy pursed her lips. "I'm sorry, honey. I'm sorry I'm not here. I promise you I'll be here tomorrow morning. I'll wake you up and bathe you and make you breakfast and take you to school. How does that sound?" Rachel sniffled loudly. At least she had stopped crying. "But you have to be a good girl and go to sleep now," Cuddy continued in a soft voice. "Can you do that for me?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Dry your tears, honey." She wished she could be home to do it herself, her thumb caressing her daughter's soft cheek. "House will give you a glass of milk. I'll see you tomorrow, I promise. I love you. Mommy loves you."

"Love you too," Rachel whispered sleepily.

"Good night, baby."

"Hey, sorry about this," House said then. "I couldn't manage to calm her down this time."

"It's fine, House. Can you warm up some milk for her?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Thank you. See you in a bit."

She sighed, wondering how many times Rachel had cried with the nanny or House while she had been working late.

No kid should have to miss their mother like that.

She was going to need a drink.

* * *

><p><em>TBC...<em>


	43. Chapter 42

_Hey guys!_  
><em>This is the last chapter I have in store. I have exams in two months, and I'm a little swamped with homework at the moment, so unfortunately I won't be able to write until late June (not enough to make a chapter, anyway). I am very, very sorry about that. (I am however working on a new Breaktime and it's almost done!)<em>  
><em>Also, I must say some of the reviews surprised me! lol I thought it made sense because Cuddy just lost her kid, it must feel horribly stifling and she can't get away from it, and then this new guy who doesn't know shows up and I guess it must be refreshing for her to spend time with him. I absolutely understand now why it seems (or is) OOC. Thank you all for leaving your thoughts and making me re-examine this chapter, and it did cast a new light on this side of the story. Hopefully this chapter will satisfy you, although it may at some point make you want to close the page and forget about all this, but please bear with me, I don't want House and Cuddy to break up anymore than you do. :)<em>

_Many many many thanks to everyone who left a review, to IHeartHouseCuddy for betareading, and to JLCH for the kind advices, and see you guys soon!_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Forty-Two<strong>

* * *

><p>"I can drive you home if you want," Pete offered sheepishly.<p>

"No, it's fine," she replied, her gaze focused on her shoes. "She's a big girl."

"How old is she?"

"She's three. Do you have any kids?"

"No."

Pause. Cuddy felt a chill crawl up her body and cringed, burying her hands in her pockets.

"I've always wanted kids," she spoke up, needing to get it off her chest. "Ever since I was young. Due to certain circumstances it took me years but I finally adopted Rachel. And I'm not there enough for her." She shook her head.

"Don't say that."

"I work long hours," she continued, finally turning to him. "She's mostly with House or with her nanny. Not with me. Even my mother tells me I can't keep up with her because I'm never there. Before I got her, House told me I'd suck as a mother. I know he didn't mean it, but..." Her voice trailed off. She exhaled. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm telling you all this. I shouldn't bother you with that."

"First off, stop apologizing like that. You can bother me with anything you want." She smiled sheepishly. "And I think you're a great mom, from what I've seen. When you were on the phone, you sounded so caring. It doesn't matter how much time you spend with her, as long as it's quality time." She turned to him with a sad smile. He rubbed her back gently. He let a moment pass by before he continued. "I have six brothers and sisters and I'm the second eldest. It wasn't long before my parents had very little time to spend with me. But when we were together, we had the greatest time. They were the best parents."

Cuddy allowed his words to sink in. Maybe he was right – she wanted to believe that he was, anyway. She loved spending time with Rachel and she cared for her daughter. Maybe it was enough – although she admitted that there were some efforts to be made regarding how much time she dedicated to her daughter. "Thank you, Pete."

"Sure, Liz."

He led her into a bar, holding the door open for her. The bar was decorated with seemingly old furniture, all made of dark wood. There were no more than half a dozen clients enjoying their drinks quietly, two other playing pool. Cuddy felt immediately welcomed. They settled on the stools and were greeted by the bartender, a bald man clad in a tight white tee-shirt.

"Stan, this is Liz," Pete told him. Stan held out his hand with a smile.

"A friend of Pete's is a friend of mine."

"Nice to meet you," she replied with a grin. Pete ordered a glass of brandy and Cuddy, one of whiskey.

"Six brothers and sisters," she carried on, eager to lighten the atmosphere. "It must have been pretty noisy."

He chuckled. "Oh, it was. That's why I wanted to be a librarian, actually. We lived across from a public library so I'd go there every day after school to do my homework, but I'd stay way later than I needed to. I loved it. The calm, you know." Cuddy nodded enthusiastically. "All these intelligent persons focused on their work. All these books. Libraries are very inspiring places."

"I couldn't agree more. I'd spend complete nights at the library in med school, studying for exams. I love libraries at night."

"It's quiet."

"Yeah," she agreed. "It's so peaceful."

"You're alone, but –"

"You're not lonely," she finished his sentence. They nodded as their minds met. "Except when there are students fucking in the restroom," she added, causing Pete to burst out laughing. She sipped her drink quietly, relishing the burn of the alcohol trickling down her throat.

"Thankfully, it doesn't last long."

"No." She giggled. "So where is your library?"

"Nowhere near Baker Street, I'm afraid." She laughed. "It's just a tiny public library. Very cosy. There are two of us working there, and my colleague works part time on the afternoons and all Saturday long." Cuddy acquiesced. "You should drop by one of these days. I'll show you around. Well, more precisely, let you take a look around."

She grinned and started fiddling with her glass. "Yeah."

"What is it?"

She roused from her reverie. "Nothing. House and I met at the bookstore in med school. I'd think about him every time I walked into a place with books. Anyway, I haven't been much in libraries since I got my PhD."

"You have been together all this time?" Pete asked, astonished.

She shook her head – although it was relatively true. "Actually, it's been almost two years, including a two-week long breakup."

"Sounds like a complicated relationship," was all he managed to say.

"Yeah. What about you?" Cuddy asked, eager to redirect the attention. "Do you have someone?"

"No." He rubbed his nape. "No, I've been looking for that special someone for a long time but I haven't had any luck so far."

"I know the feeling." She understood perfectly indeed. This routine of meaningless one night stands and dates with no tomorrow that had lasted for years, whereas House had been right in front of her eyes all this time... "I hope you will." The librarian glanced up at her. "Find her."

"Me, too." He stared into her eyes for longer than she would have liked. She shifted nervously. "You know what they say," he spoke up then. "A library is a hospital for the mind."

"I'll drop by." She beamed before gulping down the rest of her drink. "It's getting late. I should go home."

Pete agreed and placed some money on the counter. "Keep the change," he told the bartender. "Good night, Stan."

Stan waved at them while they left. It was a quiet walk to the car. Once seated in the vehicle, Pete offered to play a jazz CD. They listened worldessly to the trumpets, saxophones and drums during the ride. Eventually, the car came to a stop in front of Cuddy's place. Pete waited for the song to end to kill the engine.

"I had a great time, Pete."

"So did I." They smiled. Finally, someone who did not see her as brittle or damaged. Someone who did not say they were sorry because she had lost her baby. The hour or two spent with Pete had been a breath of fresh air.

She adjusted her coat on her shoulders and grabbed the door's handle, opening the door slightly. The interior light blinded her for a fleeting moment. "Thanks for the drink," she said, turning to him.

"Thanks for dinner."

Cuddy smiled. "Thanks for looking after me."

They were smiling at each other, and the next second he was kissing her. When his lips landed onto hers, she was too shocked to react. Her eyes opened wide and all she saw was his closed eyelids. His unfamiliar mouth pressed delicately and briefly onto hers. He parted his lips gently and, in a reflex, she opened her mouth slightly. When the foreign tongue touched hers and his hand slowly threaded its way under her coat to cup her shoulder, the abnormality of her situation struck her fully and she pushed him away. Pete looked at her for half a second, but he did not seem surprised, only cheerless and doleful. He glanced down.

"I should go," she said as she seized the doorknob.

"Wait," he blurted. She sighed and leant her flank against the seat, leaving the door ajar, and did not let go of the handle. "I'm so sorry," he apologized, and she could tell that he was sincere. Cuddy turned halfway to him and stared blankly at her street through the windshield.

"We're just friends, Pete. I'm not interested in you. I'm with House."

A short silence followed. "You didn't seem very happy with him earlier," he ventured.

She shrugged. "He's just upset because I'm hanging out with you."

"Why would he be upset? He has to let you live your life!" Pete suddenly raised his voice. "You're free to do whatever you want!"

His declaration only infuriated her. "You don't know," she snapped as she looked him in the eye. "He's not like that."

Pete looked down sheepishly, though he did not seem convinced. She had to admit it – House had seemed possessive with her before he let her go for the night. And she understood that. He wanted to mark his territory. He trusted her, she knew that, but she was vulnerable – and that was one of the reasons why she had let Pete kiss her for a second. They were going through a hard time, and she might allow herself to be distracted by a young, handsome and smart man like Pete if he tried hard enough. And this could not happen because, well, House was vulnerable as well. Cuddy drifting away from him would wreck him.

House was neither controlling nor abusive. And she refused to let anyone believe he was.

"I love him." Pete glanced up at her and his gaze focused on her face as she continued. "Heck, it's even more than that," she said after a brief moment of contemplation. Love did not quite describe the way she felt about him. She had known him since forever, it seemed. If love meant to trust him with her life, to be willing to spend the rest of her days by his side through the best and worst times, then yes – it was more than love. She was hopelessly and limitlessly devoted to him. As cliché as it sounded, he was her soul mate. "I've known him for more than twenty years. It took us so long to get together, and it was painful. I need him in my life. I just do. I know I can't be with anyone but him."

She offered him a contrite smile. He looked down at his feet, understanding that he could not break such a strong bond – or even gravitate close to it.

"We haven't been very happy lately because we're mourning, Pete," she explained quietly, hoping that he wouldn't ask. He didn't.

"I'm sorry," he whispered with an apologetic pout, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Don't kiss me again," she suggested with a small smile. He reciprocated it and nodded.

"Okay."

"Okay." They smiled. The atmosphere between them relaxed significantly and they allowed themselves to breathe out the tension. "Well, it's late," she announced before she pushed the door open. "Drive safely."

"Good night, Lisa," he said as she stepped out of the car.

"Good night. I'll see you," she told him before she shut the door, waving at him through the glass. She watched him drive away.

Sighing loudly, she walked to her front door as though on auto-pilot mode. Her den was dark and silent. House was already asleep. She abandoned her shoes on the floor and her purse and coat on some piece of furniture, rolled off her stockings and headed to the bathroom, taking a second to check on Rachel. She pulled her skirt up, her panties down, sat on the toilet and cried. No full-blown tears with loud sobs, only a few salty drops rolling down her cheeks – after the outcome of her appointment with Nolan, she was surprised she was still physically capable of crying.

Why couldn't anything be easy these days?

She only wanted a friend with whom she could talk and forget about Mary. Was that so much to ask?

She could still feel the foreign taste of Pete's mouth and brandy, and a brief wave of nausea hit her. She removed her jewellery, undressed and donned her nightgown, hurried to brush her teeth. When she spat the toothpaste into the sink, the lingering taste was still there. She opted for a second round, washed her face thoroughly and switched off the light. As she reached her side of the bed, she found House's arm splayed across it. She squinted her eyes. He was asleep, sprawled on his back, his arm listlessly reaching toward her. Since their first night, it had become their usual position to sleep. He'd cradle her into the crook of his arm and she would happily cuddle up against him. The fact that it had become a natural habit for both of them stole a smile from her resolutely downcast features.

As discreetly as she could, she threaded her way under the sheets and curled up on her side, turning her back to him.

The second she was settled, he rolled onto his flank and wrapped a possessive arm around her waist. She bit her lip.

He had been awake the whole time.

"House."

"Shh," he interrupted her before she even finished uttering his name. She sighed. Pause.

"You know." He did not answer. It probably did not take a genius to figure it out. Pete was obviously interested in her, she had brushed her teeth twice, and she felt shy around House. "Were you watching us?"

"Forgot my pills in the kitchen, when I went to get them I heard a car pull up." She nodded silently, heedless as to whether he was telling her the truth or not. It was not the most serious matter at hand for the moment.

"Well, for the record, I did not kiss him, he kissed –"

"I know. I saw you push him away."

She frowned, craned her neck towards him. "Then why –"

"I'm not angry at you," he cut her off gently. Puzzled, she stared at him for a short moment and rolled over to face him. "I do want to punch the guy in the face, though."

Cuddy let out a little, relieved puff. "Don't worry, I took care of that."

"You punched the guy in the face?"

She chuckled. "No. But he's not gonna come on to me again."

House nodded and smiled down at her proudly, caressing her hair. For a moment, they just looked into each other's eyes.

"Why does everything have to be so hard?" she whispered, her eyes watering again. She felt drained. Sick of everything. "Why did he have to kiss me? I –" She was too overwhelmed to speak.

House wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him. "Come here." As he entangled his legs with her own, she buried her nose in his chest and surrounded his back with one arm. He kissed the top of her head tenderly. She did not allow herself to shed a single tear and, while his caresses on her scalp lulled her, she fell asleep slowly, holding firmly onto him.

He never managed to join her into slumber that night. He heard her little whimpers punctuating her fitful sleep, saw the frown etched onto her face, and he was too angry to fall asleep.

He knew that Cuddy needed someone in her life who wouldn't keep apologizing or tiptoe around her. Someone who would distract her from her loss. It would do her as much good, as would talking about it and dissecting it with Nolan. That was why he had kept his mouth shut about Pete, at his own expense. He understood that even though he disliked this new relationship, it was for her own good and he could not go against it. But now that Pete had crossed the line, kissed her and made her cry, he could not accept it anymore.

Something had to be done.

* * *

><p><em>House wipes his hands with the towel and limps into the living-room, taking a step back as he remembers to switch the light off in the kitchen. Standing in the doorway, he watches silently Cuddy's vespertine relaxation. She is sitting on the couch, feet resting on the coffee table, a plaid draped across her lap and a novel in her hands. She looks up at him and smiles contentedly, before letting herself be absorbed in her book again. A few years ago, he would have never thought he could want to settle down. He did not particularly want to be alone, but he did love his lifestyle; sipping bourbon, popping pills, watching reality shows, sitting around in his underwear, playing the piano at impossible hours. As he gazes at her, he knows he is accustomed to – and even enjoying – this domestic lifestyle. Surprisingly enough.<em>

"_You said your back hurt," he says. She tucked a pillow in the small of her back, but she keeps shifting slightly from time to time, unable to find the best position. _

_She looks up from her reading glasses, "Yeah, probably because it's been supporting the weight of a baby for a few months now."_

"_Also the weight of your ass for... As long as I can remember."_

_She shakes her head. "How's _your_ back? Your ego must be crushing your spine."_

"_Good one," he smirks, motioning for her to stand up. "Come here."_

"_I don't wanna move," she sighs, returning her attention to her book. "I'm perfect here. I'm not moving. Never. Ever."_

"_You won't regret it. Come on," he insists, a little childishly._

_She glances up at him. As usual, she cannot refuse anything to him. "I'd better not regret it." Reluctantly, she puts her glasses and book down on the coffee table, to which she clings so as to hoist herself up, and waddles towards him. He pushes gently on her shoulders and leads her down the hallway. "Where are we going?" she whispers, careful not to awake Rachel._

"_It's bath time," he declares solemnly._

"_I'm not having sex with you," she warns him as they enter the bathroom._

"_I know. Remember how it turned out last time we tried?" He shuts the door, limps to the tub and turns on the tap. "I'm massaging your back."_

"_Well, in that case..." She hurries to get rid of her top as he pours into the tub the first bottle of bath salts that he finds._

"_But if you want to have sex after that, that's fine with me." He smiles, then leers at her. "I'm never getting tired of the sight," he says, licking her lips. Cuddy glances down at her chest – well, her enormous breasts tucked in an equally enormous bra, strewn with numerous protruding blue veins._

"_What, this?"_

"_'This'? Cuddy, they're the most amazing pair of boobs I've ever seen." She sits on the lid of the toilet and proceeds to pull her pants down. "And I've seen a lot of boobs, trust me."_

"_Doesn't surprise me. They hurt like crap though."_

"_Want me to massage them?" He wriggles his eyebrows. Cuddy smiles._

"_Depends on how good you are with my back. You gonna get naked or do I have to do it myself?"_

"_Do it yourself." His eyes sparkle with excitement and she rolls her own. "Can you stay pregnant forever?" Not only does she have bigger boobs, her hair is denser than usual, curls tumbling freely between her shoulder blades, her hips are rounder, and there is, of course, his daughter nestled in her womb, occasionally reminding them of her presence with little kicks, and happiness radiating from her, enough to light up the whole neighbourhood. She looks absolutely gorgeous. He considers it – no, she's never been more beautiful. So gorgeous that he almost cannot handle the sight of her._

"_No, I'm kind of impatient to meet her," she says, looking down at her stomach. She rubs her tummy lovingly and smiles. He almost dies. When she raises her eyes, House is gazing at her, practically drooling. "Take a picture, it'll last longer," she teases him._

"_Actually, good idea." Much to her surprise, he flings the door open and walks into the hallway, ruffling inside a cupboard. He comes back with an instant camera in hand, which looks as old as their university years – Cuddy remembers seeing it in a box of old junk he brought to her place a few months earlier; House isn't exactly the type to take pictures so as to immortalize important moments. He probably hasn't taken a lot, she thinks. Maybe it's not even his own camera. Before she can protest and hide her face, he snaps a picture of her and a white square slides out of the camera. He shakes it and smirks. "You, in your underwear, sitting on a toilet, with your pants around your ankles," he comments. "This is really good blackmail material."_

"_Shut up," she pouts, kicking her trousers off – _attempting _to kick them off. She bends over – tries to, her prominent belly pressing against her thighs. She sighs in frustration. House sets his Polaroid on the counter and sits in front of her. "You know what, I'm _really_ impatient to meet her," she grumbles. Then, to her stomach, "come out, will ya?"_

"_Isn't it bad luck to say that?" he asks, freeing her from her pants._

"_Shit, you're right." She wraps her arms around his neck so as to lift her hips in the least graceful way possible and allow him to remove her panties._

"_Don't come out," he tells her belly. "I don't want to change your diapers yet." Cuddy giggles. He pulls her socks off, reaches out to unclasp her bra but she taps his hand away. He frowns. _

"_Not now," she says. Her hands travel up his arms and find the collar of his shirt. "Hurts too much when they're free," she explains, unbuttoning the garment leisurely._

"_I really wouldn't mind massaging them." She grins._

"_We'll see." She removes his shirt and tee-shirt, leaving him topless. "You know, I'm not getting tired of the sight either." She peers at his broad shoulders, robust chest and strong arms, biting on her lip._

"_And you haven't seen my penis yet." _

_Playfully, she hits his shoulder. "What a gentleman."_

"_Duh, I just took off your socks for you."_

"_It makes you sexier." They gaze into each other's eyes, until she yields and starts giggling. "The tub is almost full," she reminds him. His stare still riveted to her, he turns the tap off._

"_Once your elephant ass is in there, it's definitely gonna overflow," he observes. "Should have watched it more closely."_

"_That and your gigantic –"_

"_Penis."_

_She smiles. "Ego."_

"_You smiled." She rolls her eyes. While he undresses, Cuddy stands up and catches her reflection in the mirror as she unhooks her bra, carelessly letting it fall to the floor. She places her palms below her tummy and contemplates the ephemeral changes in her body, both curious and fascinated. Even though it's been months, she can discern a tiny change almost every day. Maybe that her tummy is a little bigger than – _

_She hears the soft snap of his camera. "You're having fun, aren't you?" she says, turning to him with an annoyed pout._

"_Oh, definitely." He puts down the device before taking her hand and tugging at her arm. He gets into the bath first, and she waits until he is settled with his back against the wall of the tub to reach out for his hands and stride over the edge. She sits and leans her back against his chest, groaning in delight. The hot water is soothing each and every one of her little aches. Her eyes flutter close and she lets herself enjoy the moment._

"_Later," she whispers as his large hands travel to her shoulders, seizing them to rest them on her stomach. "There." _

_He laces his fingers and exhales, relaxed. Her right hand cups his thigh under the water and begins to rub it lightly. He walks around all day to tend to her needs and help her; waking Rachel up and taking her to school, bringing her breakfast in bed, setting the table and washing the dishes. Today, he even left to get some groceries, and yesterday he ironed the laundry. She appreciates his efforts, and she wants to let him know. He pecks her hair, thanking her. A few minutes pass by quietly. He remembers to reach behind him and grab his camera, holding it out, the lens facing them. _

_Sensing his movement, Cuddy opens one eye and sighs. "Am I supposed to smile or something?"_

"_It's going to be one of the few pictures of us together, so yeah." She accedes silently and lets him take his picture. He does not realise she opened her eyes wide and stuck out her tongue before she starts giggling. "You didn't smile, did you?" She shakes her head no. "Seriously?" he whines. "You know I can drown you, right?"_

"_I'm so scared," she deadpans, stifling a laugh. House takes a look at the small picture and sighs._

"_We have to do it again anyway. Half my face is missing." _

_She motions for the camera, which he reluctantly holds out to her. "World-famous diagnostician, can't even center a picture correctly."_

"_We'll see how 'Doctor' Cuddy manages," he replies, miming quotation marks._

"_You know I can emasculate you, right?" She grins as she presses the button. This time, they both fit on the picture, although House closed his eyes. "Really?" she growls, turning to him. He offers her an innocent pout. "This is the last one I'm taking. I want my massage."_

"_Fine." Before she can take the picture, he leans forward, rests his chin on her shoulder and wraps his arm around her collarbone. She beams at his unusually tender display of affection._

_The picture looks perfect._

"_You have permission to scratch my back," she announces, craning her neck towards him before she hands him the picture. He smirks, takes it. She does not let go of it until he's offered her a kiss._

"_You're too kind." He sets the picture aside and dips his hand into the bath, so that he can spread the hot water across her smooth back. She hands him the bottle of lotion and he generously smears his palms with the almond-scented oil. He begins by rubbing her nape and lets his ministrations diverge towards her shoulders. Cuddy purrs and arches into his hands, incapable not to close her eyes. He immerses his hands into the bath and proceeds to rub her lower back. She lunges forward and grips the edge of the bathtub with a deep moan, thus offering him a better access. He obeys to her willingly and massages her aches away, quickly and effectively bringing her close to ecstasy. She can feel the pain and tension being lifted away from her back and cannot help sighing with relief. After a while, she lays back against him, a grin on her face. He laces his talented fingers on her belly._

"_You're amazing with your hands," she sighs._

"_And that's not my only skill, if you know what I mean." She chuckles. "Can I touch your boobs now?"_

"_Sure, knock yourself out."_

_His touch is neither possessive nor libidinous. It is unusually careful and compassionate. He knows that at this state of her pregnancy, her breasts are quite sensitive, and her muscles strained from supporting the extra weight. He cups them in his hands and lifts them slightly, amazed by how they fit perfectly into his palms. But the truth is, he has no idea how to touch her._

"_Show me," he whispers into her ear, kissing her neck. She covers his hands with her own, leads his thumbs to massage slowly the tense area between her armpits and her breasts. She does not know whether it is due to her hormones, the significant gentleness, or both, but she finds it extremely and unexpectedly erotic. She bites her lip and leans into his touch, feeling her toes curl as an intense warmth spreads across her lower stomach. Which obviously does not go unnoticed._

"_That sensitive, huh?" He nibbles her earlobe, his thumbs brushing teasingly her erect nipples. She gasps._

"_Shut up and make me come."_

"_Now, don't be so bossy." His fingers circle torturously around her buds. "And you know I'm not supposed to elevate your blood pressure."_

_She cranes her neck and looks into his eyes. "I'll do it myself, then."_

_Her eyes are an enthralling dark and her lips swollen. He cannot resist her._

_As he lunges forward to kiss her mouth voluptuously, one of his hands inches its way down her stomach and meets her mound. She bucks into his palm with a groan, presses his hand against her lips. He's barely rubbed her clitoris for more than a few times when a powerful and sudden orgasm takes grip of her and she cries out into his mouth. He rides out her climax with her, quelling his caresses accordingly. Her head lolls on his shoulder as she catches her breath._

"_Wow," she breathes out eventually._

"_My thoughts exactly." She chuckles. Cuddy closes her eyes and, with a satisfied sigh, takes time to recover. "You're dozing," House tells her at some point._

"_I might be," she mumbles. Sleep is winning over her and she is too lazy to move. She has no reason to. She is sheathed into warm water and ensnared in House's arms, where aches and fears cease to exist. What more could she be asking for?_

"_Water's getting cold."_

"_Then add some hot water," she shrugs._

"_It's getting late." He pecks her shoulder._

"_Fine." She grabs the edges of the tub and, with a herculean effort, lifts herself up. Stepping out of the bath, she quickly dons her bathrobe to ward off the cold. House follows her. She sits down and proceeds to dry herself with a towel._

"_I have a surprise for you, actually," he tells her then._

"_You know I'm not really a fan of surprises." She slips on her pajamas pants and sleep bra._

"_You'll like it." He takes her top before she does and motions for her to lift up her arms. She does so and he slides the garment down her limbs and then down her torso. He dresses up quickly and they brush their teeth before they head to the bathroom._

_Cuddy narrows her eyes at the sight of the giant worm sprawled on her side of the bed. "What the hell is that?"_

"_It's a pregnancy pillow." He takes her hand and leads her to the bed. "Come on, just try it." She tentatively lies down on her side._

"_How is this supposed to –"_

"_Look, just put your head on this end here." She does as she is told. When she is settled, the narrow pillow is crawling under her belly and rests between her thighs, effectively replacing the square ones she's been using for weeks. It cushions the weight of her belly and thighs, lifting the aches off her body. As soon as her head hits the pillow, sleep washes over her and tugs at her consciousness. _

"_Oh, my God," she exhales._

"_See?" he smiles proudly. He covers her with the sheet and blanket, swallows a couple of ibuprofen pills for the night and joins her, facing her. She stares into his eyes lovingly._

"_You take such good care of me."_

"_Nah, just hoping you'll let me touch your breasts again." She laughs and allows her heavy eyelids to drop. House turns off the light and leans in to kiss her goodnight._

* * *

><p><em>TBC...<em>


	44. Chapter 43

Hi guys!

If you're still there, thank you for not giving up after all this time :) And thank you for reviewing, favoriting, following, and especially taking the time to read! It means a lot to me.

So, I've just finished high school, and I have a month to hopefully write another chapter before I start med school (and say goodbye to my social life and free time). Updates will be scarce next year, but I'm hoping to write as much as possible this summer.

Enjoy, and have a bloody great summer!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Forty-Three<strong>

* * *

><p>They were still tightly wrung together when Cuddy's alarm rang, six hours later. House grumbled incoherently and buried his nose further into Cuddy's neck who, more inclined to get up, turned off the alarm and sat up, setting her feet down on the floor. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes and rubbed the sleep off his face.<p>

"How you feelin'?" he muttered, clumsily caressing her shoulder blades with the back of his knuckles.

"Better," she said, turning around. She did not feel particularly happy or satisfied or plain good, but for the first time, she was willing to move forward. She was impatient to focus on her daughter and put the past where it belonged – behind her. "Yeah." She gave him a small smile. "I'm gonna do some yoga and get Rachel ready for school."

"Can I watch? You in the doggy position," he said with dreamy eyes.

"It's called dolphin pose. And in your dreams."

He smirked. "I'll make breakfast."

"Sounds good." She took his hand, kissed it gently and stood up. He focused on her morning noises for a few minutes – her soft, slow steps to the bathroom, the water running in the washbasin, her pajamas dropping to the floor, the faint ruffling sound of her slipping a tank top on, the slight creak of the floorboard in the corridor when she headed to the living room. When he heard her quietly walking into Rachel's room half an hour later, it was time for his own morning ritual – sitting up, swallowing his pills, rubbing his leg. As minutes ticked by, their routine settled more forcefully into their morning. If they believed it hard enough, they could swear nothing had happened.

When Rachel emerged from the bathroom, clad in jeans and her favourite pink sweater, a plate of pancakes was waiting for her on the kitchen table. She approved of her first bite with a loud yum. She told House about a dream she'd had – she was so excited that it was mostly unintelligible, then Cuddy walked in, dressed in elegant black trousers and in a sky blue blouse.

He took his time to admire her. In spite of her casual clothes, she looked like she was on her way to the hospital. She was beautiful and radiating confidence.

She was getting her life back.

Cuddy helped Rachel to get ready, kissed House on the lips, and led her daughter outside, letting the diagnostician enjoy a quiet breakfast, just like they used to every morning.

But House wasn't going to let himself be fooled by the illusion of routine. As much as he wanted to, the anger simmering in the pit of his stomach didn't allow him to be lulled by everyday scenes. He called Wilson.

They had an uneventful day – which was the best they could hope for. They watched TV, listened to music, picked up Rachel from school together, and had dinner before House left to meet Wilson.

Although Wilson had at first resisted the idea of checking out a new place, they headed downtown and walked into the bar. After taking a look around the quiet room, House sat down at the bar and Wilson followed him. The bartender, a bald guy with a shirt at least two sizes too small, asked them what their drink would be.

"Scotch," House said.

"Beer," added Wilson, a little sheepishly. Not long after Bruce Willis turned his back to them to prepare their drinks, the oncologist started talking – House pretended to pay attention to him, occasionally offering a snide comment, and kept his eyes focused on the door.

If Pete had taken Cuddy to that bar, it was obviously a place he enjoyed. A guy like him, having been rejected by a woman, wouldn't waste time before resorting to liquid oblivion – Cuddy had had this effect on him and he remembered it all too well. It was only a matter of time before Pete walked through that door and he could face the man who had _dared_ kiss his girlfriend.

House eventually downed his first glass. Wilson was probably blabbering about the hospital or dissecting Cuddy's – or even his own – state of mind. House was willing to listen to neither.

"How's Cuddy doing?"

"She's fine," he replied curtly, willing himself to forget how tightly she had clung to him the night before.

"She wasn't herself at the hospital the other day, House." As if he didn't know that. "I told her she could get her job back anytime. I know she's strong, but I wonder if she'll ever be capable of handling the stress of her job again. All of this must have –"

"Wilson," he interrupted abruptly. "I'm a little busy trying to get drunk here."

His friend considered it. He lived with Cuddy every day; he knew all of that. Besides, leaving her overnight at the hospital was his idea. Maybe he just needed to clear his head. Mary's death had to have taken its toll on him, too.

He motioned for Bruce Willis to refill their drinks.

Two bottles of beer later, Wilson predictably excused himself to rush to the restroom.

As if on cue, Pete walked into the bar.

Simmering anger and hatred rising to the boiling point at the sight of his face, House slapped a couple of bills on the counter and stood up. That's when Pete noticed him, his face unmistakably freezing with nervousness.

"Doctor House," he tried to say, unable to finish his sentence when House's fist came in contact with his eye. The diagnostician didn't register Wilson's surprised shriek, the bartender's loud warning or the sudden silence in the room, his heartbeat echoing in his ears. He barely let Pete fall to the ground and grabbed his collar, laying him on the pool table before punching his face once more.

"If you come anywhere near my woman again," he growled. "I will break your jaw."

"House," Wilson said, grabbing his arm. House let his gaze linger on his split eyebrow and bleeding nose, and turned away.

"We're outta here." Wilson took a step and stopped, reaching for his wallet. "Oh for Christ's sake," House snapped. "I took care of it." He followed him outside sheepishly.

"What the hell was that for?"

House kept on walking. "He kissed Cuddy."

"Wait. He what?"

"Yeah."

Wilson had to jog in order to catch up with him. "That necessitated a punch in the face?"

"Two," he corrected.

His friend sighed. "You can't go back to Cuddy like this."

"It's fine, I'll cool off."

"Listen, House. I get that you're angry –"

"Yeah, no shit," he grumbled.

"But you need to talk to someone about it."

"Then leave me alone," he shouted, stopping in his tracks. "I don't need your help, Wilson. I'm fine."

And he resumed his limping.

"'You gonna walk all the way there?" Wilson called out after him.

"I'll get a cab."

And he disappeared into the night.

* * *

><p>Rachel had made a small fuss when she found out that House wouldn't be there when she went to sleep, but a few bedtime stories and a good night hug managed to calm her down. Since it was still early, Cuddy indulged in a bath and a glass of white wine. She turned all the lights off, lay down under her comforter and waited.<p>

She was bored and she couldn't sleep without him.

She waited, waited, waited, until she heard the front door opening, followed by his familiar gait.

Cuddy switched the bedside lamp on, sat up and waited as he got rid of his jacket and his shoes, paying close attention to the comforting sounds of House coming home. She then heard the hiss of the freezer – what?

With a frown, she slipped her robe on and joined him.

"Hey," he greeted her, pressing an ice pack to his bruised knuckles.

He wasn't drunk, he had been perfectly aware of what he's been doing, and he had that smug look on his face when he had reasserted his dominance – which he got from getting her to sign off on a dangerous procedure, solving a case, ruining her dates, fucking her from behind, but not from being involved in random bar fights.

"You've gotta be kidding," she snapped once she understood. He looked at her. She clenched her jaw. "Bedroom. Now," she instructed in her dean of medicine tone.

He followed her into the corridor and sat on the bed, observing her without a word as she paced in front of him, hoping to quell some of the storm raging inside her.

"What the fuck, House," she spoke up eventually. "You still draw them away now that we're together." She felt the bitter taste of betrayal dwell up in her throat. They had been together long enough for him to know she wouldn't just ditch him – that was what she had thought, anyway. Besides, Pete was absolutely harmless. House would break the nose of a man who had kissed her, while he had never laid a hand on the one who had almost married her.

"Draw who away?"

"My dates," she snapped.

"Oh, so he's your date now? I thought that he was, and I quote, just a friend?"

"He _is_ just a friend, you just refuse to see it that way!"

"If he has the hots for you, he's not going to be your friend."

"And that's why you had to punch him in the face? Because he's attracted to me?"

"God no, I'd have to punch half of the planet in the face." She glared at him. "I punched him because he kissed you."

"That's not a good reason, House."

"Yeah, then what is?" He yelled as he stood up. "This idiot kissed my girlfriend and I should just let it go?"

"It was harmless," she insisted, raising her voice as well.

"Right, you cried 'cause it was harmless!"

"I was tired. He didn't do me any harm! Why are you making such a big deal out of this?"

"Because I care about you."

"Right," she scoffed. "you care about me. You don't want me to be happy!" she shouted.

"That doesn't make any sense!"

"You didn't want me to hang out with him! You're afraid that I'll dump you if I get over this before you!"

"Fine, I don't want you to be happy if it means he's taking you away from me!"

"House, don't be stupid. He's not taking me away from anything!"

"Is he?"

She fell silent. Her anger dissipated into thin air as she understood. She sighed with relief. "Oh, House. Is that what this is about? You think I'm leaving you behind?" House, having just opened up, put up his walls again, looked away and sat down without a word. She smiled tenderly. "For a genius, you can be incredibly thick sometimes." She stood between his legs and wrapped her arms around him. He gave in and rested his head against her chest, somewhat appeased. "I'm not leaving you behind," she reassured him.

It took him a moment, but he embraced her back. Their fight was forgotten.

Her heart sank when she thought about the position he was in. They were both struggling to merely cope with Mary's death, let alone overcome it. Dinner with Pete had given her a breath of fresh air, while House was struggling to stay afloat. She had left him at home and made progress on her own. House was a man who had barely been able to find his way to happiness in the past. He could not move on from such an event on his own.

It was fucking unfair.

"It was selfish," she admitted in a whisper, afraid to shatter the quiet state of comfort they had reached. "Going out with Pete and leaving you at home."

"Yes it was." She tightened her embrace.

"I just needed to get away for a few hours. To get away from Mary. I needed it." She blinked back her tears.

"I know."

"I shouldn't have left you alone."

"Yeah." He pulled back and gazed into her eyes. "We need to get better together."

"I know." She cupped his face and stroked his cheeks with her thumbs.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. "Because I can't do it alone."

"I know. I'm sorry." Her eyes glistening with tears, he pulled her to him and let her sit across his lap, before they wrapped their arms around each other.

* * *

><p><em>"We need to paint the room."<em>

_ She announces it over their usual breakfast in bed, as solemnly as though it would change the fate of the universe, and yet as quietly as though she were telling him they were out of milk._

_ He scoffs – tries not to. She struggles not to be offended. "We?"_

_ "House, you said you'd be involved –"_

_ "I am," he cuts her off. "I mean _I_ need to paint the room, not you. You think this is a good idea to inhale fresh paint while you're pregnant?"_

_ "Oh."_

_ "Yeah." They stare ahead, keep eating pancakes absent-mindedly._

_ "Sorry," she yields after a brief moment. "I know you're involved."_

_ "Sorry I was harsh." If he does mean it – and she knows he does – he does not sound very convincing. She got him to apologize earlier in their relationship, instead of letting him argue that he's right and she's an idiot, and he rarely ever means it, but at least he meets her halfway by saying the word._

_ "Everything okay?" she asks as casually as possible._

_ "Leg hurts," is all he offers her. She nods._

_ "You hoovered yesterday," she eventually says. "You hoovered the whole house, actually."_

_ "Yes." He takes a sip of his coffee. She just stares at him._

_ "House, it took you at least an hour. You were standing the whole time." She tries not to sound worried or overbearing, but he'll perceive it that way no matter what – her hypothesis is confirmed when she places her hand on his mangled thigh and he recoils from her touch. "I'm thankful for all that you do, and I wish you'd let me do my share, but if it's too much we can maybe hire someone –"_

_ "Are you done emasculating me already?" he snaps._

_ "Is that what this is about? I'm emasculating you?" He doesn't reply, munches his pancake angrily. "House, just be realistic –"_

_ "Oh, you're the one telling me to be realistic? That's rich coming from the woman who thought she'd just keep working during her entire pregnancy –"_

_ "If I make it to the due date," she continues. "and that's in two months –"_

_ "Look, it's fine," he cuts her off again. "I'll paint your damn room. Wilson and I will."_

_ "Okay."_

_ Silence._

_ "I'm so-"_

_ "I get it," she interrupts him gently, though she does not look at him, sipping her tea. "You're in pain. It's okay. It's not the first time that you lash out at me because you're in pain."_

_ "You said you'd forget about that," he says, swallowing he bitter taste of betrayal. She ignores him at first, then sighs and turns to him._

_ "I shouldn't have said that. Sorry."_

_ "It's fine." She sets her fork down, purses her lips. "What color did we decide on again? Blue?"_

_ "Green."_

_ "You sure?" he teases her. She smirks and glances at him out of the tail of her eye. "How about I go get the paint later tonight and we get it done this weekend?"_

_ "Okay," she smiles._

_ "So what shade of blue would you like?"_

_ "Keep going and I might accidentally spill my hot tea all over your face," she says with a grin. He returns her smile and leans down for a kiss._

_ Later that day, after driving Rachel home from school, House heads to the hospital to pick up Wilson – "'cause a cripple can't exactly carry cans of paint, right?" – and they get to the nearest hardware store._

_ "I'm in there," he tells Cuddy on the phone._

_ "Great." She sips on something – tea. She and Rachel are having their afternoon snack. "What greens do they have?"_

_ "Did you mean blue?" he asks as he makes his way to the back of the store._

_ "House," she sighs._

_ At last, he finds the neverending shelves of white tins of paints, each topped by a lid of a different colour. "What kinda green do you want?" _

_ "What do you want?" she asks. "We're choosing this together."_

_ "Green's green, Cuddy." Wilson turns to him with a warning glare. Don't piss off a pregnant Cuddy._

_ "I know this concept might seem foreign to you because you never bothered to have your apartment repainted," she replies. "but it is important. Dark colors make a room look smaller and –"_

_ "So you want a light green?" Wilson, who was browsing the aisle, redirected his attention._

_ "Yeah, but not too pale because –"_

_ "Light but not too pale," he interrupts her. "God, woman. You could have just said so." She chuckles._

_ "What about this one?" Wilson lifts a can from the shelf – light green, but not too pale._

_ "Yeah, sure," he acquiesces offhandedly._

_ "What green is it?" Cuddy asks._

_ "Send her a picture, Wilson."_

_ "What do you want him to send a picture on? I'm on my cell! I'll call you right back from the landline, don't buy any paint," she says before hanging up. While they wait for her to call back, House takes a look at the different shades displayed._

_ "This is ridiculous," he says with a scoff. "This one's ten dollars cheaper and it's the same green."_

_ "It's fairly obvious. That's 'cause it's a neutral base." House stares at him. "What?"_

_ "Well, aren't you full of surprises."_

_ "Can I help you with anything?" a sales assistant asks, happily treading towards them._

_ "We're good," House replies while picking up the phone._

_ "Actually, we're looking for a shade of green. We're painting the nursery this weekend," Wilson intervenes._

_ "Really? Congratulations! You two must be so thrilled!" the young man replies, going as far as clapping his hands. "When's the adoption scheduled?"_

_ "Adoption?" Wilson turns a deep shade of crimson. "No, uh, we're not a couple."_

_ "Don't worry, I'm on your side," the assistant says with a wink._

_ "'You hearing this?" House asks._

_ "Yeah," Cuddy says with a laugh._

_ "So what kind of green are you looking for?"_

_ "Light green but not too pale," House answers, since Wilson is seemingly incapable of uttering anything._

_ "Right, a green that will make the room brighter, but is also soothing."_

_ "I love this guy," Cuddy whispers into the phone._

_ "Green is a very inspiring color. It's nature, fertility, not hard on the eye. You couldn't have chosen better!"_

_ "Tell him I love him!" Cuddy adds._

_ "'You trying to make me jealous?" he teases her, turning away from the ongoing conversation._

_ "Maybe."_

_ "You little minx."_

_ "You love it."_

_ Wilson pats his shoulder. "House."_

_ "Rick and I chose this shade for our first baby's room," the assistant explains as he shows them a tin of lime green._

_ "Yeah, I guess that will do," House acquiesces as Wilson snaps a picture and sends it to Cuddy. She receives it a few seconds later._

_ "Hell no. My eyes are bleeding. It's too bright."_

_ "I guess not," House corrects. "Too bright."_

_ "Yeah, too bright," Wilson adds, mostly for the sake of verifying if he was capable of speaking._

_ "What about this one?" He reaches for another green – a pale fern green. "It's a bit drabber but I think it can do just fine." Wilson takes another picture, sends it to Cuddy._

_ "I like it," Cuddy exclaims. "What do you think Rachel?" House hears the kid's loud approval in the background. "We're taking it. Tell him we're taking it."_

_ "You said we'd choose together," House pouts._

_ "Well, do you want it?" _

_ He takes a second look at the paint – he imagines it coating the walls of the nursery, matching a circular woolen rug on the floor and the bedding of his daughter's tiny crib. "Yeah, I do."_

_ He hears her grin through the phone. "Then we're taking it."_

_ Saturday can't come soon enough. House puts the cans away in Offspring's room for the time being. Cuddy sometimes gets up from her bed and stares at them dreamily, each time imagining a new setting for the room : first Rachel's old crib is facing the window, next it's at the back of the room, either the curtains are long enough to reach the floor or they aren't... Whatever the setting is, it always comes with a blue-eyed baby sleeping peacefully._

_ On Saturday, House and Wilson clear the room of Cuddy's old junk, scattering the boxes all over the house and filling closets that were already packed, cover the floor with plastic, open the windows. Just when they open the first tin, Rachel, clad in old, worn pyjamas and her winter coat walks in with her mother, who slips a greyish lab coat on._

_ "Get out," House tells her, immediately putting the lid back on._

_ "Rachel and I want to help."_

_ The kid nods enthusiastically._

_ "Rachel can help," he concedes. "But you can't."_

_ "Oh come on." She takes the paint roller from his hand. "Since I'm carrying _your_ kid, I think I'm entitled the privilege of the first stroke."_

_ "Fair enough," Wilson says, lifting the can so she doesn't have to bend over._

_ "Why aren't you ever on my side," House pouts. Cuddy kisses Wilson on the cheek. She dips the brush in the green paint and, with a giggle, applies it on the wall. Rachel claps._

_ "It's beautiful Mama!"_

_ "Okay, just this one," House intervenes._

_ "Fine." She rolls the brush on his chest, covering the front of his tee shirt with fern green._

_ "Oh Mama!"_

_ "What if I liked this shirt?" he winces._

_ "You don't," she says confidently as she walks out of the room._

_ It doesn't take the trio more than three hours to paint the room – Wilson paints it while House sits on the floor beside Rachel, teaching her how to paint and making sure she doesn't get cold. The oncologist is exhausted and welcomes the beer that Cuddy gives him._

_ "Can I have one too?" the kid asks as Wilson gulps down the bottle._

_ "You're too young, honey."_

_ "Maybe in, say, twenty years," House adds, opening the fridge to help himself. He gives a carton of orange juice to Rachel. Just when she stabs it with her straw, Wilson burps loudly, causing her to burst into laughter._

_ "Charming," Cuddy comments._

_ "Sorry. We'll do the second layer tomorrow."_

_ Rachel claps her hands. "Yay!"_

_ "Can I see the room?" House pushes gently on her shoulders. She reluctantly sits back down._

_ "Not yet. Let's wait a few days with the windows wide open."_

_ She rolls her eyes, but agrees with him. It's just for a few days, and she cannot afford to take any chances with Offspring._

_ "Just tell me if you like it," she insists once Wilson is gone._

_ "Yeah, sure," he shrugs. "It's green."_

_ "House."_

_ He smiles, kisses her on the lips. "Yes, I like it." And it's enough to reassure her._

* * *

><p><em>TBC...<br>_

_So here's the thing...  
>If you want this story to end well, I suggest you stop reading right here. (Some of you might know that I don't really do happy endings) The second part of this story starts next chapter, and things aren't going to get better for House and Cuddy.<br>I've tried to bring as much closure as possible with this chapter : House and Cuddy are hopeful, not mad at each other, beginning to move on. I hope that's enough._

_It's up to you to keep reading. Whatever happens, even if nobody reads it anymore, I will finish this story._

_See you next time, hopefully :) If not, see you next story!_


	45. Chapter 44

_Hi guys! _

_Sooo sorry for the long wait. As predicted, school is keeping me very busy, so there will not be an update until December (I do, however, have the whole month off, so it's very likely that I'll have time to write and write and write).  
><em>

_Also thank you SO much for all the kind reviews! They always put a giant smile on my face :D And thank you if you're still sticking with this story! (Cuz remember, if you wanted a happy ending... Now's the time to stop reading :3)_

_I didn't write the song I'm Gonna Be, The Proclaimers did. I also didn't write Jack Nicholson's famous line from A Few Good Men._

_I'll let you guys read now. Enjoy!_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Forty-Four<strong>

* * *

><p><em>The weirdest thing woke him up.<em>

_Over the first weeks of their relationship, he has grown a sort of sixth sense, which is even more acute now that Cuddy is pregnant; if she isn't peacefully asleep, he wakes up. That's why he isn't surprised to hear her laboured breathing in the dark – unsurprised, but not unconcerned._

"_You okay?" he asks, turning the light on._

"_I didn't mean to wake you up," she murmurs, her eyes rimmed with red. The worm-like pillow is wrapped around her body and the covers are pulled up to her neck._

"_What's going on?"_

"_I had a nightmare."_

_He suppresses a sigh of relief and lies down on his flank, facing her. "Jesus, Cuddy. I thought you were going into labor."_

"_I dreamed that Offspring was dead, that _you_ were dead," she says, her voice trailing off._

"_Well it's fairly common for pregnant women to have this kind of dream, especially this close to the due date."_

"_It doesn't make it any less scary," she snaps. "I've had nightmares like this before but it never was so vivid. There was so much blood and you weren't there but I knew it was because you were dead."_

_Her eyes mist up with tears and she turns away._

"_I know you haven't been a real doctor for some time," he says as he grabs her wrist and places two of her fingers on his carotid artery. "But you remember how to take a pulse, right?"_

"_Shut up," she whines, too upset to laugh or respond in kind._

"_I'm not dead." She swallows the lump in her throat and she nods. He places her hand on her stomach. "And Offspring is still here."_

"_Yeah."_

"_Take deep breaths," he tells her, caressing her thick hair gently. She shifts around and faces him, doing as she is told for a moment, but her peace of mind is short-lived._

"_I'm scared, House. I'm scared of giving birth."_

"_Don't be," is all he offers her._

"_It's going to take hours. I'm going to be in pain for hours. I've read that giving birth was as painful as getting twenty bones fractured."_

"_Cuddy, don't believe the shit they put in magazines."_

"_We're doctors, we know it hurts that bad!"_

"_I know you haven't been a real doctor for some time," he taunts her, hoping she'll react. She doesn't, which gives him cause for concern. "But you remember what an epidural is, right?"_

_Her eyes widen in fear. "Oh, God, they're going to stick this enormous needle into my back!"_

"_You can always have a C-section," he suggests, lamely._

"_If I'm going to have a C-section, you better make sure it's damn necessary. I want to be awake when I give birth to my child, goddammit!"_

_To his great horror, she starts to sob._

"_What kind of a mother is afraid of giving birth? It's supposed to be the most beautiful thing and I'm scared!"_

"_Cuddy, it's blood and placenta and pain. Of course it's not going to be pretty."_

_It obviously doesn't help._

_Before he can even think of another course of action to reassure her, she buries her face in his shoulder and wiggles as close to him as she can get. He wraps his arms around her, and gently massages the back of her neck as he tells her not to be scared. However, the more he thinks about the delivery, the giddier he feels._

_They're having a child together._

_Cuddy is going to give birth to his kid._

_In a few months, his daughter is going to be asleep in her crib, just a few feet away from their room._

_Holy _shit_._

"_It's almost a miracle, you know," she mutters after a while, her tears having subsided. "I'm forty-one. I miscarried before. I thought I was sterile."_

"_I don't believe in miracles but yeah, it is."_

"_And we weren't even trying! It's an aberration. It's not normal that I've managed to keep her for seven months so far. I'm going to lose her," she chokes out. "It has to screw up somewhere, it just has to!"_

"_Cuddy –"_

"_I have everything that I want. I have my job, I have Rachel, I have you. It's not normal that I get pregnant out of the blue!"_

"_Look at me." She buries her nose further into his tee-shirt, so he lifts her chin towards him and stares into her eyes. "You are not losing her. I won't let anything happen to you."_

"_Okay," she acquiesces meekly._

"_I swear to you." He wipes her tears with the pad of his thumbs and she cranes her neck to kiss him chastely. "I love you," he whispers against her lips._

"_I know." She gives him a feeble smile and sets her head back down on his shoulder, appeased._

"_Try to go back to sleep," he tells her before he turns the light off. The room is pitch black, except for a thin, dim ray of light threading its way through the curtains. She settles more comfortably in his arms and shuts her eyes, but sleep won't come. He may hold her tight and caress her hair softly, but her fears creep back into her head._

"_House?" she murmurs after a few minutes. "I can't sleep."_

"_What, you want a teddy bear and a glass of hot milk, too? What's next, a lullaby?"_

_At last, she smiles – he knows she does. "If that's not too much trouble."_

"_Okay, what do you want me to sing?" he asks eventually._

"_You're serious?"_

"_Might as well practice. If Offspring takes after me, she's going to be insufferable."_

"_No doubt about that," she snorts._

"_Hush little baby don't say a word," he sings, horribly out of tune. "House is gonna buy you a mockingbird. And if that –"_

_She swats his arm playfully. "I'm not a baby!"_

"_No doubt about that," he says, grabbing her chest. "I told you, I'm practicing! Rome wasn't built in a day."_

"_Well, do keep practicing. If you sing like that Offspring will have nightmares, for God's sake."_

_He pauses and mentally looks for another song. Cuddy tries to contain her excitement._

"_When I wake up," he starts with a mock Scottish accent. She giggles, immediately recognizing the song. "Well I know I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be the man who wakes up next to you."_

_He goes on and her cheeks turn a deep shade of crimson when he reaches the chorus and tells her he'd limp five hundred miles and he'd limp five hundred more just to be the man who limps one thousand miles to fall down at her door._

"_Da da da da," he yells eventually, causing her to cover his mouth with her hand._

"_Don't wake Rachel up!" She laughs. "And don't make me laugh, I can't sleep if I'm laughing."_

"_Duh," he says against her palm. They look at each other for a long time, although they can't discern each other in the dark._

"_I'd walk a thousand miles for you, too."_

_He pulls her hand away. "You'd waddle. But I appreciate that, thank you."_

_She grins. "I love you, too." She kisses him on the lips and cuddles back up against his chest. "It's awfully cheesy, by the way," she adds._

"_I know. You can't tell anyone."_

"_Your secret's safe with me."_

"_In that case..."_

_He carries on more softly, until he's sure she fell asleep._

* * *

><p>After driving Rachel to school the next morning, she went looking for Pete – which wasn't as easy as she had thought, considering all she knew about him was that he worked in a tiny library downtown. She couldn't even place a single library on a map of Princeton if it were farther than three blocks away from the hospital. The last time she had been downtown long enough to pay attention to her surroundings was too long ago for her to remember.<p>

So she aimlessly drove around, stopping at each small library she found and asking for Pete; no luck in the first one, there was a Pete in the second one but he turned out to be a slightly creepy habitué. It was getting late, so she decided to give it one last try.

Bingo.

A red-haired young girl sitting behind the desk informed her that he'd be in any minute now, having called in late, which seemed to annoy her to no end. "I'm going to be late for class!" she whined, tapping her foot on the floor. Cuddy fought the urge to apologize.

She took a look around. The library was a large room bathed in the early sunlight, thanks to the tall windows and glass doors. Shelves were crammed with as many book as possible, reaching up to the ceiling. Even though the room was packed, a corner had been saved for the kids, who could read comics sprawled on colourful cushions or plastic chairs. Cuddy grabbed one of the recommended books which were displayed on a table at the centre of the room, each accompanied by a short review and a grade, ranging between zero and ten, and absent-mindedly flipped through it.

When the front door opened, Cuddy turned around while the bundle of nerves heaved a painfully deep sigh and jumped to the exit. "Finally!" Pete had barely walked in when she stopped in her tracks, eyeing his bruised eye and bandaged nose. "Whoa, is this what you were late for? If you went to the hospital you could have driven me!"

"I took the bike this morning," he replied as he settled his things at the desk.

"You rode all the way to the hospital and then back? Whatever," she dismissed before leaving. "If I'm late I'll hate you forever."

"Nice day to you, too. See you this afternoon," he called out behind her, before directing his attention to Cuddy. "Good morning Liz."

She smiled shyly. "Hi."

"So you've met Erin. She's a med student, helps me out on the afternoon."

"Yeah, I could tell from the bags under her eyes."

"What, the fact that she studies medicine or that she works here?" They chuckled nervously. "Want anything?" he asked, heading towards the coffee machine. She politely declined and leaned against the desk, watching him fumble in his pockets for some change.

"You have a very nice library," she commented, mainly to fill the silence. "It's obvious you put your heart into it."

"Thank you." The machine whirred for a second and served him a hot chocolate.

"Told you I'd drop by."

"Yeah."

He grabbed the plastic cup and stood there, at a comfortable distance from Cuddy.

Cuddy decided to address the elephant in the room and motioned at his nose, which was no doubt House's handiwork. "What did the doctors say?"

"Yeah, it's broken."

"Sorry."

He shrugged. "I'm not pressing charges, if that's what you're here for."

"No, I wasn't –"

"Can't say I didn't have it coming."

There was a pregnant pause. "Listen, Pete. I came to tell you something."

"You don't think we should be friends."

She sighed. "No."

"I get it," he said with a smile which didn't quite reach his eyes. "Not that your boyfriend scared me. You told me you suffered a loss recently, and he seemed pretty angry yesterday night. I feel like I'm making things worse."

"No," she denied, out of politeness. In fact, he was; she had been upset over him kissing her, House had been upset for the same reasons. They had enough drama in their lives as it was. This friendship wasn't doing any good to any of them.

House had been angry. Really angry.

"It's just that you kissing me," she continued. "Well… House is right. We're not going to be friends, not really. I'm not in a good place right now. So we should end it before it gets awkward."

"I agree. It's for the best."

She gave him a sad smile, eventually crossed the distance between them and hugged him briefly. "I had a good time with you," she said. "For a few hours I forgot it all." He looked at her with a mixture of regret and compassion. "You're a good guy. I wish you all the best."

He forced himself to smile. "You too, Liz."

She walked out quietly and didn't look back.

It was for the best.

* * *

><p>"You're home," House greeted her, still sitting at the kitchen table wearing pyjamas and reading the paper. "Guess I have to tell the cops to call off that APB."<p>

She rolled her eyes. "I wasn't out that long. You haven't showered yet."

"I was too worried to shower." She smirked and kissed him on the mouth.

"You were too _lazy_ to shower."

"What took you so long?"

"I stopped for coffee." She sat across from him and he gave her the pages he had already read, but she didn't take them.

"You didn't taste like coffee."

She sighed. That damn clever mind of his. "Fine, I went to see Pete."

"Oh."

She looked at him. "You broke his nose." He looked up from his paper. "But he's not pressing charges."

"That's why you went to see him? To coerce him into not pressing charges?"

"No, you idiot, I told him I won't see him again!"

She watched closely for his reaction. To her great disappointment, his face was neutral. He wasn't smug or pleased that she had broken off a relationship he disapproved of, or sad for her because she had just lost a friend.

"Okay," he acknowledged simply, before returning his attention to the piece of paper.

"I know you're angry, House."

"Wow, you must have talked to Wilson."

"No need to, it's pretty obvious. Talk to me," she pleaded. "Just talk to me."

"What do you want me to talk to you about?"

"You could tell me what you're angry about, for starters."

He ceremoniously folded his newspaper, set it down, and placed his forearms on the table. "Well, there wasn't enough milk left in the bottle for my cereals and I had to get another one from the pantry, that pissed me off a little, and then there –"

"For God's sake, House," she snapped. "We promised we'd tell each other the truth."

"Why are you so curious all of a sudden?"

"Because I care. Because I've been neglecting you. Because you deserve better than that."

"You want the truth? You can't handle the truth," he said, à la Jack Nicholson.

She looked at him wearily for a second and blinked. "Okay," she said quietly as she stood up, however turning around after barely three steps. "I'm sick of it, House. You broke the guy's nose just because he kissed me, and don't you tell me it's a normal reaction. You're angry, and you won't talk to me!"

"You want to know why I'm angry? Fine," he yelled as he stood up. "I'm angry because this moron thought he could kiss _my_ girlfriend, because he made you cry again and you were getting better!"

"House – "

"Because our kid died for no reason, and it's fucking you up! Because I am fucking sick of things being taken away from me!" he continued, his voice ringing across the house, loud and penetrating. She swore she could feel the walls shake. "We were supposed to be happy and we're not! You're supposed to be the strong one and you cry all the time! It's unfair! We didn't deserve this shit!"

She stood there listening to him, trembling from head to toe. His face was red and she could see the pulse in his neck, but he seemed almost relieved. Her lower lip quivering, she struggled to keep her tears at bay, refusing to disappoint him.

"I'm going to shower," he muttered as he left the room. When she heard the bathroom door close, she dissolved into a mess of sobs, her chest heaving erratically.

She had to pull herself together. She had to clear her mind before she shattered again.

She could not feel like this again, dammit.

Taking a deep breath, she wiped her eyes with her palms and gathered his dishes into the sink. Her vision blurry from her tears, she focused on her breath, turned on the tap and squirted dish soap on a sponge.

He was right. Their situation was so unfair, it made her want to just shout at the top of her lungs. After all they had suffered through, they had deserved this child. They loved Mary from the bottom of their hearts, and she was gone forever. And she had no one to blame but herself.

She clutched a glass, her knuckles turning white, rage filling her chest and burning in her veins.

Mary was dead. They were devastated.

She had never seen House so angry, so upset before. Not even when he had woken up from his most dreaded surgery and found out the two women he trusted had betrayed him.

She wondered if he would ever get over it. If they could go back to the way they were before. Careless and happy and fighting over things that seemed now trivial and making up in bed and forgetting all about it the next morning.

It was all her fault.

What if she could never be herself anymore? She missed it – the relentless, courageous administrator who wouldn't let a soul see a single chink in her armour. She felt like she had been left bare.

She threw the glass against the wall. It shattered into smithereens and she flinched, looked down at the mess she'd made. It hadn't been as cathartic as she had hoped. Instead of relief, she was filled with inescapable frustration and exhaustion.

"Everything okay?" House asked, suddenly materializing behind her.

"Yeah." She turned her back to him and went back to her dishes, as though nothing had happened. "I'll clean up when I'm done."

He didn't move or say a thing for a few seconds, and she silently prayed for him to leave the room before she lost control again. _She was supposed to be the strong one._

Much to her surprise, he wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. "I'm sorry I made you cry." She pursed her lips, blinking back her tears. "I'm not angry at you. I shouldn't have said all this."

Cuddy swallowed the lump in her throat. "I know."

"You didn't need to hear all that."

"I needed to know how you feel." She turned to him and kissed whatever part of his face she could reach. "I'm glad you told me."

He kept silent, buried his nose in her curls.

"I miss her so much," he whispered after a while, so low she wasn't sure he had actually spoken.

"Me, too." She distractedly scrubbed a plate. "I'm sorry, House."

"It's not your fault." He tightened his embrace, kissed her neck. "I don't blame you and I don't hold you responsible."

There was a pause. "We'll never have a child together."

At this moment, it made no doubt to them both that they wouldn't give it another try.

"We have Rachel."

"You know what I mean." She sighed. "I don't resent her for that, I love her as though she were my own, you know that. It's just that I'll never have a child with your brains and your blue eyes and your dimples... We'll never have a child together and it's my fault. I screwed it up."

"Don't. Don't say that."

"I knew it wasn't going to work out, but I wanted her so much I still went for it. Look what good it did to us!" She slapped the plate on the counter. Her surge of anger was however fleeting and she continued in a calmer tone, "I've wanted her for years, House. Ever since I started the IVFs. I didn't just want a child, I wanted yours."

"When you went up to my office that day –"

"I was going to ask you," she interrupted him in a meek voice. "But I knew that if you said no, I wouldn't be able to take it." She sighed. "What would you have said, House? I need to know."

He took a few seconds to think about it. Over the years, he had pondered about it countless times, and never had he been able to come up with an answer. There had always been banter and flirtation between them, and the idea of her asking him to make such a big leap in their relationship had been slightly frightening at the time – they would have had a child together, for God's sake. It was too early in their relationship, she was just a friend. But then he had known her for over a decade, and not only was she a close friend, he had feelings for her. He might have said yes, but would he have played an important part in the child's life? Would they have ever gotten together?

Would it have been worth it?

"I don't know." Her throat tightened. "But I wanted you to ask me." She nodded, and this time she was incapable of keeping her tears at bay. They could have given it a try. Perhaps she would have miscarried, but they would still have had time ahead of themselves. Time to recover, try again and again.

It was their last chance and she had let it go to waste.

He kissed her wet cheek and she let out a sob.

"I think I'm going to be sick," she warned just when he thought her breath smelled odd – he knew that smell but he couldn't place it. She ran to the bathroom and he stood there, the answer popping into his mind as his blood ran cold.

Ammonia.

Dread weighing on his stomach, he limped to her and found her curled up around the toilet bowl, catching her breath. He knelt beside her, lifted her shirt with shaky hands and saw a purplish rash spreading below her right ribs. He gasped.

"What?" she asked, looking up at him with jaundiced eyes.

With a strangled voice, he declared, "I'm taking you to the hospital."

* * *

><p><em>TBC...<em>

_Well._

_The show's opening credits should be playing in your head right about now._

_Thank you for taking the time to read this chapter! See you guys soon :) _


End file.
